Now and Then
by Miss Shannon
Summary: It is 1991 when Andy Flynn makes the acquaintance of a certain FID-officer.
1. Part One

**Now and Then  
**

**Summary: **It is 1991 when Andy Flynn makes the acquaintance of a certain FID-officer.

**A/N:** So my flight was delayed and suddenly this popped into my head. As I already had the whole story mapped out in my mind, I figured I might as well write it down. There are about a thousand other things I'll have to get done today, so I'll have to split it up into several parts, though... Oh god, I might actually be addicted to writing.

**[ Part One ]**

Andy decided that it was time to step outside and get a breath of fresh air to clear his head and so he waved at the uniformed officer and left the bar. The night outside was clear and the cool air helped soothe his upcoming headache that he'd been trying to rub away furtively when still inside the stuffy room. He contemplated trying to score a cigarette from the grouchy, slightly overweight woman standing a few feet away for a moment but then decided against it. He had stopped smoking a long time ago and he had never really liked it in the first place. And the welcome nicotine hit would certainly not compensate for the effect the smoke would have on his already aching head. So he stood, back against the brick wall, inhaling the air instead. He had screwed-up, again and not even deliberately this time. Although he hadn't had time to reach his usual blood alcohol level, he was clearly intoxicated and FID wouldn't let him get away with it again. Ted, the friendly old guy who had been working his cases so far, had been more than lenient and Andy hoped that his general disinterest in seeing fellow officers punished would get him off one more time.

He opened his eyes when he heard footsteps approach. It took him a moment to sharpen his vision – how many tumblers of scotch had he drowned his sorrow in today, he fleetingly wondered – but when he finally accomplished his goal, he liked what he saw: The young woman in front of him was wearing a blue trenchcoat that looked professional but still accentuated the curve of her hips and breasts that Andy found quite impressive on such a slim body. What he could see of her legs in silk stockings was also quite promising and he found himself with the sudden urge to take the damn coat off her to find out what was underneath. Maybe he would start with running a hand through that mane of auburn hair that he could see even in the bad lightning out here, held a promise of red that he found very appealing. She was wearing the sort of glasses that inspired fantasies of naughty librarians and his enthusiasm only faltered slightly when he found that her hand was firmly holding on to that of a small boy of about four years. He decided to try anyway.

"What would a beautiful woman like yourself be doing entering a seedy bar like this one at three in the morning?" he asked with forced nonchalance although the scotch made it kind of hard to wrap his tongue around the words.

She cocked her head slightly and curled her lip in a condescending expression. "LAPD. I'm looking for one Detective Flynn," she said coldly and then added sarcastically: "At three in the morning. In a seedy bar."

Andy's gaze fell upon the little boy next to her who shyly pressed his face into the folds of her coat, squinting up at him.

"Is it bring-your-kid-to-work-night again?" he joked.

"Did you ever try to find a babysitter on short notice in the middle of the night?" she snapped and made to march past him into the bar.

"Wait," Andy said. "I am who you are looking for."

For a moment she looked as if she was taking his statement for a bad chat-up line but then she rolled her eyes and stopped in her tracks.

"Detective Flynn," she said evenly. "How very nice to meet you. Your file's been a pleasure to read although it took a while to get through it. Sergeant Sharon Raydor."

She didn't extend her hand for him to shake so he didn't either and just shrugged instead.

"So you and the kid are here to beat my ass for being an idiot?" he asked, earning a glare from her as he was intentionally using foul language in front of her child. As if on cue, the little boy began to whine.

"Mommy, I'm tired. I wanna go home."

She gave Flynn a look that could have cut through glass and bent down to comfort her son. "It won't take long, Tommy. I just have to get a few statements and then it's back to bed for you, okay?" The kid pursed his lips but didn't protest further. Raydor straightened up again and took a small notepad and pen from her pocket.

"Did I get that right? You came to this bar after completing your duty for the day and brought your loaded service weapon with you. While you were sitting at the bar, drinking, two other patrons got into a fight and one of them got hold of your weapon to then fire it into the wall?"

"After which I took him down and wrestled the gun from his grip, yes," Andy supplied. "No one got hurt, everything's fine. Where's Ted, by the way?"

She gave him a hard look. "If you mean Sergeant Bynes, he was transferred. It is now me who will have the pleasure of cleaning up after you. I'll have to get a few witness statements inside. Please stay and hold yourself available for a more detailed statement later."

She breezed past him with her child in tow and entered the bar. Andy could see from the look that flashed across her face that she'd rather be anywhere but here and he could see why. The floor was a creaky wooden one with countless stains. Every piece of furniture in the room was old and looked as if it was about to collapse into itself any minute. The heavy stench of stale beer and sweat made the sergeant cover her mouth with her hand. Tommy wrinkled his nose.

"Mommy, it stinks." Raydor bent down and lifted the child into her arms as if that could keep him from being negatively influenced by the scruffiness of the place. Flynn wouldn't have liked his own children in a place like this one and he was beginning to feel a little guilty for being the reason that they were here. He watched her quickly and efficiently collecting statements from everyone involved, frequently cutting people off if they were straying from simply answering her questions. Somehow no one seemed to dare not to take her seriously just because a half-asleep child had slung its arms around her neck and he was impressed, wondering whether he would have been able to pull that off. She finally said her tight-lipped goodbyes to everyone and motioned for him to join her at the table she had occupied to be able to take notes and hold her child in her lap at the same time.

The ancient chair noisily scraped across the worn floor when Andy sat down and startled Tommy who immediately began to cry. Raydor closed her eyes for the shortest of times but when the crying didn't cease but increased in volume, she set down her pen and tended to her son instead. It seemed, however, that the little one was inconsolable at this point.

"Hey, if that's okay, we can just do this tomorrow," Andy offered but the determined look in her eyes told him that she would not let him off the hook that easily.

"You've been involved in enough incidents to know by now that I will have to file my report first thing in the morning," she said, raising her voice to be able to be heard over her child's noisy complaints. "There's no way around this."

She looked stressed and tired underneath the hastily applied make-up and although she didn't exactly appear like a damsel in distress, he felt the urge to make things a little easier on her. He was the reason she'd had to get out of bed in the middle of the night, after all.

"Okay, then why don't we drive to your house so you can put your kid to bed?" he asked, earning an exasperated look. He could tell that she didn't want him anywhere near her home but he also knew that there were little alternatives. She hesitated for a moment but then nodded reluctantly.

"Okay. But you will not drive anywhere by yourself tonight. Come with me." Her words were spoken in a rapid staccato, conveying the dismay she was feeling at this whole situation, so he followed her out in silence that persisted through the entire drive. She finally turned into the driveway of a small and rather old, but cosy-looking house that appeared tiny compared to the big houses surrounding it. Its garden was also not more than just a stretch of lawn and he had the immediate suspicion that it had been quite a bargain considering the rather good neighborhood. She climbed out of the car and unlocked the door, stepping aside to let him enter before her. When she flipped on the lights, he found himself in a small entrance hall that was stuffed with boxes.

"Sorry," she said. "We just moved in a couple of days ago. The place is still a mess."

They were standing so close in the confined space that he was suddenly painfully conscious of the alcohol on his breath.

"Could I use your bathroom?" he asked, hoping that she'd had time to unpack the toothpaste so he could try to use it in order to make himself a little more presentable.

"Yes, follow me," she told him, still looking rather uncomfortable at having him inside her house. He did as he was told and climbed the stairs behind her until they'd reached the landing that presented him with four doors to rather small rooms. She pointed at the second one to the left and carried Tommy into the one right opposite. Andy entered the small but clean bathroom and raided the medicine cabinet for something to make his headache go away. Relieved at the discovery of both peppermint toothpaste and a box of advil, he washed a painkiller down and spread some toothpaste across his teeth, using his finger. He then ran a hand through his hair and pursed his lips in dismay at the prominent bags under his eyes. The alcohol wasn't kind to his skin but then he had never tried to stop drinking. Maybe he did have a problem. Taking a loaded service weapon into a bar and being too drunk to notice that someone had gotten hold of it was despicable. He knew it and Sharon Raydor knew it, too. No wonder she didn't want him around her house.

He smiled at the sight of a big and a small toothbrush in a cup and a Donald Duck towel that clearly belonged to Tommy. He wondered for the first time why there was no husband around to watch the kid in the middle of the night. Was he just away on a business trip or did her moving house have something to do with a recent separation? He opened the bathroom door and took a look into the kid's room from across the hall. There were boxes, too, but the bed was made and Raydor was sitting at the side of it, tucking her child in. She was in stocking feet but still wearing her coat, maybe as an armor against the intruder that Andy Flynn knew he was to her. She bent forward and kissed the little boy's cheek.

"Sleep well now, honey. I'm so sorry for dragging you out of bed. I'll make up for it tomorrow, okay? We can go and have some ice-cream."

"Ice-cream?" Tommy murmured sleepily and the smile that was gracing his face was audible in his tone. She kissed his forehead and rose from the bed.

"Mommy?"

"Yes?"

She was almost at the door and turned around again to face Tommy.

"When will we go home?"

She seemed to understand because her shoulders sank. "Honey," she said softly. "this is our home now. We'll unpack your things tomorrow and this room will be just as nice as your old one, okay?"

"But it's so much smaller," Tommy protested sleepily and Andy could see that Raydor was too tired and too worn to have that conversation right now. She stalled by taking a deep breath and then seemed relieved as her child's eyelids fluttered shut and he fell asleep, holding on to his teddy bear. She tiptoed out and then shut the door softly behind her, holding on to the doorknob behind her back while she narrowed her eyes at Flynn.

"Eavesdropping?" she inquired sharply.

"Didn't want to disturb your privacy by marching into your living-room by myself so I decided to wait around for you," he said smoothly. Raydor just gestured towards the stairs and he followed her again to then enter her living-room a moment later. It had two large bay windows and, though small, possessed great charm. He imagined that it was awash with light in the daytime and the few pieces of furniture that were visible among the boxes spoke of good taste and, surprisingly, money. He was a detective, after all, so he was pretty sure that moving into this house constituted some kind of downsizing. Monetary problems, probably. She sat down on the couch and motioned for him to to do so, too, as there wasn't another chair yet. He pointedly took off his overcoat and took his seat beside her. She looked a little defeated as she unbuttoned her own coat and shrugged out of it, leaving it on the arm of the couch. Underneath it, she was wearing a soft white sweater and a simple black pencil-skirt but her attire wasn't what caught his attention. Instead his eyes were drawn to her softly rounded abdomen underneath her sweater. She seemed to see where he was looking and straightened up, covering her middle with one hand.

Great, now he had roused a pregnant lady out of bed in the middle of the night.

"How far along?" Andy asked, wondering once again where her husband was off to.

"That's none of your business," she replied and looked up at him. Catching the tender look in his eyes, she softened slightly and added: "Four months next week."

She rubbed her belly with her left hand while she poised her right one to take more notes. Andy resigned himself to his fate and began to recount the events and answer her questions. He knew from experience that there was yet an extensive FID questionnaire to be filled out and signed by the both of them, so he decided to make a suggestion.

"Did you unpack your coffeemaker, yet?" he asked her and was surprised to find a smile playing in the corners of her lips. She looked quite lovely when she smiled, he found with surprise. Shaking her head slightly, she rose to her feet and he decided to follow her into her kitchen without actually being asked to. It was another nice but small room and it looked a little more habitable than the others. The woman was a neat freak, it seemed, when she was not busy unpacking boxes. He felt a little out of place leaning against the counter to be out of her way while she made coffee. Her movements were graceful; maybe she'd been a dancer at some point and he found himself liking the way she flipped her hair back from her face every now and then. Maybe the fact that the small table by the window only had two chairs was owed to the limited space the small kitchen offered, but somehow Andy didn't believe that.

"Why did you move?" he asked conversationally, trying to hide his curiosity. She looked up and a dark look crossed her face before she turned away again without answering his question. Apparently she was not about to tell him her secrets and he wasn't particularly surprised.

"You're drinking," she said while she reached up to take two mugs out of the cabinet. "I do think you should get help. Judging from your file, your habit has developed into an addiction."

Andy was stunned. Many of his friends and colleagues had hinted upon that but no one had ever addressed the problem head-on. It seemed that Sharon Raydor didn't have a problem doing so, however, as she turned to look at him. He didn't know exactly how to react but deep inside him he knew that she was right. He'd been contemplating the problem for a while now, but he had always found a way to avoid taking action. One of his attempts at justification had been that he couldn't possibly have a problem if no one ever told him so. That had changed now and although it was just a very small step, he knew he had crossed into unfamiliar territory now. He felt anger rise inside him but he instinctively knew that it was just a defense mechanism and he couldn't possibly attack the woman in front of him. She was right, she was FID and she was pregnant.

She turned away, maybe to grant him some privacy, and poured coffee into the two mugs.

"Milk or sugar?" she asked and handed him the cup when he declined by shaking his head. She added some milk to hers and headed back to the living-room without another word. When he finally decided to follow her after a prolonged moment of hesitation, he found her back on the couch, the dreaded questionnaire already spread out on the coffee table in front of her. He sat down and blew the steam off his coffee while she did the same.

"Look," he said. "I'm really sorry for being the reason for you to be dragged you out of bed in the middle of the night. I guess you need your sleep in your condition."

She rolled her eyes at his comment and set her mug down, once again without answering him. She seemed comfortable with uncomfortable silences and that impressed him more than any witty comeback could ever have. She went through the questionnaire, asking her questions in that monotone voice she liked to use and completed it with quick efficiency. The strong black coffee helped with the aftereffects of the alcohol that hadn't already been wiped out by the shock of discovering someone with his weapon raised, ready to shoot and Andy felt the whole weight of what happened and what could have happened crash down upon him. Once he had signed the document, he buried his head in his hands, running his fingers through his hair.

"I'm such an idiot," he confessed, slightly amused besides himself at hearing no words of encouragement from her in response. Instead he heard her get up and walk over to the dining table to retrieve something. When she came back she scribbled something on to her notepad and ripped out the page, handing it to him.

"This is the number and address of the local Alcoholics Anonymous organization. They meet daily at seven o'clock in the evening."

He looked up at her quizzically, wondering why she had those numbers handy. For the first time this evening he found himself hesitant, almost a little shy.

"Did you have a problem with alcohol, too?" he asked quietly to which she gave him a humorless smirk.

"Not me," she simply said, leaving it at that.

He stared at the digits for a moment and then nodded. "Thank you, Sharon."

She gave the first real, yet clipped smile of the evening at the usage of her first name and set her pen down.

"I guess we're through with this one, Detective. I'll file my report tomorrow but I think if you actually get help, I can get you off this time around. If you screw up again, however, I'll have your ass. Understood?"

He was a little surprised at her lenience but nodded his gratitude. "I promise I won't let you down."

"We'll see," she said ominously and got up, extending her hand for him this time. It was an awkward affair that found them standing almost too far apart to shake hands without effort, but he felt comforted anyway.

"Well, thank you," he said again. "And, um, all the best for you and your little ones."

"Thanks."

She walked him to the door and when he turned around to say goodbye, she had already closed it. He stood motionless for another moment, the information on the AA meetings still in his hand. There was an air of sadness around Sharon Raydor, especially when it came to alcoholism and he found himself intrigued by it. It didn't hurt that she was beautiful, too, he had to admit to himself. Her house wasn't far from his so he decided to walk through the two blocks to his home. At the corner of her driveway he paused and watched the light go on one of the rooms upstairs, wondering what Sharon Raydor's secrets were.

* * *

Not drinking was harder than he had expected. Before he'd finally been able to admit to himself that he had a problem, he'd assured himself and everyone else that he was drinking because he liked the taste of it, but now he found his hands shaking slightly and his mind yearning for the buzz that would numb his senses. He was drinking to forget. Forget gruesome images. Forget his messy divorce. Forget that his kids were growing up without him. Forget that everything that was going wrong in his life was his very own fault. And forgetting by drinking made it worse because the supposed cure was actually the cause of all of his problems. But Andy attended all of the meetings that week, feeling a strange sense of accomplishment every time he switched off his bedside lamp at night with the sure knowledge that he'd gone another day without a drink. It was one day at a time, they'd said at the AA-meetings, baby steps.

He had met Sergeant Raydor on a Monday, had started going to the meetings that Tuesday and found himself on her doorstep the next Saturday. He rang the doorbell, unsure what on earth had actually brought him here but unable to drag his feet away. Usually he would have brought a bottle of wine as an apology but that seemed most inappropriate considering both his own state as now an alcoholic in the first stages of recovery and the fact that she was expecting a baby. The door opened slightly and a small face peeked through the crack.

"Hello?" Tommy Raydor said, catching Andy off-guard.

"Um, is your mom home?" he asked uneasily but was rescued by approaching footsteps and Raydor's voice admonishing her son not to open the door without her present. Her eyes widened in surprise when she saw him in his weekend attire of jeans and his favorite leather jacket and her body tensed visibly. She was wearing sweatpants and a t-shirt, her hair pulled back in a long ponytail that fell over her right shoulder.

"Detective Flynn!" She looked unsure what else to say for a moment so he took the lead.

"Well, sorry to disturb you on your weekend, but I thought you might need some help with the whole unpacking as you shouldn't really lift heavier objects," he rambled. "I brought some pastries," he finished weakly.

"I assure you I get by fine by my-" she began but was cut off by her son's excited squeals when he spotted the bag of pastries Andy was holding up for their inspection. She shook her head and stepped aside, nodding for him to get inside. Grinning at his luck, Andy entered her home. The boxes in the hall had vanished and when he entered the living-room, he found that she had begun to sort books onto shelves. Soon Tommy was on the couch, munching his way through the pastries Andy had bought and Raydor was eying her guest with a fair amount of suspicion. Once again, there was no sign of a husband or boyfriend, for that matter.

"Okay, what can I do for you, Ma'am?" he asked, taking off his jacket and draping it over the back of a chair. She reacted by stepping aside to be out of her son's earshot and crossed her arms defensively in front of her chest.

"What do you really want, Detective? I still don't see a fit reason for you to be here."

He got it. FID-officers were notoriously cautious when it came to private relations with officers, well aware of the fact that they weren't liked and rarely respected among the rest of the force. His showing up unannounced did have to appear suspicious to her.

"Look, I'm here to do you a favor like you did me. I know it doesn't seem like much but supplying me with that info and telling me that I am an alcoholic like that gave me the nudge that I needed. I've been in recovery for four days now." He grinned self-consciously. "I know I have a long way in front of me, but I have you to thank for being able to at least make a start."

She shook her head. "I didn't do anything," she said. "And I suggest you tell me what it really is that you want. Get rid of the complaint that's attached to your file now? Because I won't do it. You may be able to bribe Tommy with candy, but not me."

His shoulders sagged in defeat. "I don't care about the damn complaint. God knows I have enough of them already. One more won't do any harm, but if you want me to go, I'll go. It's just..." He wasn't sure whether he was overstepping his boundaries but he was about to be thrown out anyway, so he might as well try. "I think we're both in need of a friend right now."

She snorted. "A friend. On the force?" She turned away and angrily began to stuff books onto the shelf. "Are you sure you want to be seen with someone from FID? Because that could hurt your reputation."

He could see that she was filled with bitterness but he also understood why.

"Nah, that's why I'm visiting you at home and not at your office," he said lightly, taking a book out of the box and putting it onto the shelf. "That way the others won't find out that I am about to befriend someone from the dark side."

He hadn't been sure how his light tone was going to go down with her but her smile was enough of an answer. She shook her head slowly. "If you really want to help, you could assemble the other shelf. I can deal with the books, but it took me ages to keep this one from falling apart. I have two left hands, it seems."

Andy familiarized himself with the bookshelf and began setting it up, casting furtive glances at Raydor from time to time. She was very methodical when it came to the books and when she had finished with one box, she flattened it and disposed of it by the door. When she had finished the task, she chose another one, this time sorting tea towels and other odds and ends into a chest of drawers in the other corner of the room. What guy in his right mind would leave his pregnant wife behind with a new house to organize all by herself? He had also found out that she'd recently gone from part time to working full-time again and with another baby on the way, he found that this was an indication for separation from her husband if there ever was one. He wasn't sure why he was so interested in her and her private life, but something about the woman drew him in. He worked in silence until a hand appeared in his line of vision and offered a small bottle of water that he accepted with some enthusiasm. He followed her into the kitchen where she had put what Tommy had left behind of the pastries onto a plate. The smell of coffee hung in the air and the lights were on, indicating that the rainy afternoon had gone by a lot more quickly than he'd expected it to.

"Tommy has certainly made a go of these," Andy grinned and helped himself to a battered looking strawberry sundae tartlet.

"He does love strawberries," she said. "but apparently he likes raspberries, apple and mango, too." Her smile was genuine and she bit the small, yet intact chocolate biscuit she had chosen for herself.

"So you're a chocolate fan?" he asked, trying to find a topic of conversation that wouldn't turn out to be a minefield.

She shook her head, her mouth full. "Not so much, normally, but the baby demands it." Placing her hand on her stomach, she smiled at him.

"You're lucky, though. My ex-wife used to crave the weirdest kinds of food and it was up to me to go find them in the middle of the night."

He couldn't tell from the expression on her face what she was thinking but she tilted her head playfully. "So you have kids, I take it. How many?"

"Two," he said, his heart heavy. He hadn't seen them in a while since he'd preferred spending his days and nights in bars recently. "My daughter's eight and my son is six."

"Tommy turns four next week. I hope to get the place cleaned up until then." She sighed, looking around the spotless kitchen. "It's so hard to find the time, though, when crazy LAPD-officers get their guns taken off them in the middle of the night by drunken strangers."

She had actually made a joke, Andy thought in awe. Maybe there was more to her than the very reserved personality she'd shown him so far. She was certainly beautiful when she smiled.

"Are you having a big party?" he asked her and was surprised when a dark shadow fell over her face. She didn't look a him when she shrugged.

"My parents live on the East Coast and, well, I don't know that many people in this part of town, yet." Andy sensed that a lot of what was making her sad remained unspoken but he knew that it wasn't his place to inquire any further.

"Maybe pastries will be in order."

She laughed. "Indeed. You will have to tell me where you bought these. I suck at baking, truthfully."

"I've never tried it," he agreed. "I'm a good cook, though. Italian roots and all," he said with a faked Italian accent that made her laugh again. It was a warm, pleasant sound that calmed him somehow. "I might be a little rusty, though." He hadn't cooked in a while since he tended to burn everything when he was drunk.

She sighed. "I am not very enthusiastic about cooking. You could call me less than talented in this department."

"I could teach you." It was out before he even knew what he was doing, so he rambled on, unwilling to think about it. "Cooking is great actually. Very relaxing. And it's not that hard if you know some basics."

To his surprise, she didn't seem insulted or taken aback. "I might take you up on that offer one day," she said quietly. He noticed for the first time that her eyes were a vivid green. She held his gaze then quickly rose. "More coffee?"

He held up his hands. "No, no. I'm fine. I have an appointment at seven, so I have two more hours to be at your service. Anything else you could use me for?"

She shook her head, smiling again. "No, that's okay. You really don't need to do this."

"Sergeant," he shrugged in order to be appear a little more relaxed than he really was. "I get some nice company in return. That's more than enough to reward me, you know." He hesitated, unsure how to explain his interest in being here. "I have to admit that I'm trying to avoid my friends at the moment as they could also be described as drinking buddies."

She shook her head again, nervously running a hand through her hair. "Well, you certainly won't find me breaking out the booze any time soon." He watched a small smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. "If you follow me upstairs, I have heavy objects in need of being moved galore." She paused on her way to the door and looked at him over her shoulder. "And you can call me Sharon."


	2. Part Two

**[ Part Two ]**

"Rule one: Always use olive oil. Extra virgin. No butter. Get it?" Andy looked from the pan to Sharon who nodded obediently.

"No butter. Noted."

"Is butter bad?" Tommy asked, swinging his legs back and forth where he was sitting on top of the kitchen counter, watching as dinner was being prepared.

"No. It's just out of place when it comes to my grandmother's famous tomato sauce," Flynn explained to him while adding a healthy amount of olive oil to the pan that sat next to the pot of sauce already blubbering on the stove. He actually hadn't believed his ears when Sharon had called him four days after he'd spent the whole afternoon and some of the early evening helping her around the house. She'd suggested having him over for dinner that night as a thank you for his help and he had told her which groceries to buy in order to be fully stocked on everything he needed to make the aforementioned tomato sauce. It was past eight o'clock already since he had dutifully attended his AA-meeting - as he did almost every night - and so Tommy had already had dinner and was wearing his pajamas, almost ready for bed. Andy took a look at Sharon from the corner of his eye, taking in her casual black sweater and the white top she was wearing along with a low-slung ivy green silk skirt that barely reached her knees. She looked comfortable and pretty and he found his gaze lingering on her legs a little longer than was commonly considered decent. Fortunately she was too busy enforcing her son's bedtime to notice.

"Say goodnight to Andy," she said, stepping back slightly from the counter to allow her guest to stand in front of Tommy who cocked his head pensively.

"But I want to try the food."

"There will be leftovers that your mom can heat up for you tomorrow," Andy offered the child. "Sleep is important."

"But you weren't sleeping when we met you," Tommy sulked.

"But he's a grown-up and you're a child and now it's time for bed. Come on, we'll go and brush your teeth now." Sharon rolled her eyes towards the ceiling over her child's shoulder as she lifted him off the counter and then took his hand to lead him upstairs. Andy remained in the kitchen, frying bacon bits that he then added to the mixture of fresh tomatoes, basil and onions. The sauce had to simmer for a while, anyway, so he turned down the heat and casually wandered into the adjoining living-room. Sharon had done a remarkable job at getting the place set up, he had to admit. All boxes had vanished and she had even found the time to hang some pictures on the wall, most of them art prints. Modern art, he noticed, while trying to make sense of what looked like random splashes of color to him. Mostly blue, rather beautiful splashes of color, but mere splashes nonetheless.

"Jackson Pollock." He winced in surprise at the sound of Sharon's voice right behind him and turned around apologetically.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to nose around. I was just curious as to how far you'd come with the place."

"That's okay," she assured him. "I did the finishing touches last night."

"So you just invited me over to have someone to admire your work," he teased and she gave an amused hum in response. Andy wondered once again what made her so cautious about each and every one of the gestures and sounds she made. It seemed that she often resorted to barely audible hums that still conveyed the whole range of her emotions if one listened closely enough. "Now who is this Pollock guy again?" he asked, turning back to face the picture to mask the fact that he had actually tried to flirt with her and failed. Maybe. It was hard to tell what was going on inside her head.

"He was an abstract expressionist. His trademark was drip painting." She indicated the picture on the wall. "Do you like art?"

"Depends on the art," Andy murmured, unwilling to admit that he knew very little about the topic. His answer made her chuckle and he felt a sudden sense of accomplishment at the sound of it.

"Yeah, I guess. My husband never liked Pollock although they share the same first name."

Andy listened up when she finally mentioned her husband and found her hand resting on her stomach that was half-disguised by the loose-fitting t-shirt. For the first time it occurred to him that they didn't necessarily have to be separated. Maybe he had died and she was a grieving widow which would certainly account for the sad look in her eyes whenever she felt unobserved.

"He died in a car crash because he was drunk," she said in a strangely detached voice that didn't make her sound emotionally involved at all.

"I'm so sorry," he told her, still wondering whether he should touch her shoulder in a sympathetic gesture when she frowned at him, apparently a bit confused. Then she gave a small jolt of laughter without actually making a sound. The motion of her shoulders was there, if somewhat apologetic, but the sound that should have accompanied it was completely muffled by her closed, yet smiling lips.

"Oh no, Andy. Not my husband. Jackson Pollock!"

"Oh." Andy was at a loss for a moment but then he grinned, both relieved and oddly disappointed. Slightly ashamed when he realized that he would have preferred a widowed Sharon Raydor to a separated one, he decided to examine his own motives later. Her smile broadened and the fact that her mouth was still closed gave the expression something shy and secretive. Andy liked the very faint, not yet permanent web of wrinkles that appeared around her eyes when she smiled – or laughed, if that counted as such. How old was she, he wondered. Thirty?

"The sauce," he said, feigning a rather urgent tone although he knew that the mixture of ingredients was still contently simmering and would have to do so for at least another fifteen minutes. Stirring optional.

"Of course," she said, the smile wiped off her face as she stepped aside to let him go into the kitchen first where he tried to look important and busy for a moment.

"I should fix us some drinks," he heard her say and turned around in surprise as his biased mind inevitably associated the term "drinks" with alcohol. Surely she wouldn't dream of-? But Sharon hadn't noticed his appalled expression and had opened the fridge, now busy shoveling ice-cubes into two large cocktail glasses.

"Um- Sharon, really, I shouldn't drink and, honestly, you shouldn't either."

He felt mortified yet again at her now definitely amused expression when she closed the refrigerator door to look at him again, holding a bottle of soda and a container of cranberry juice which she lifted up for his inspection. Once again, Andy was grateful for the naturally dark Italian complexion that ran in his family because he was sure that, if not for that, he would have blushed at his accidental indiscretion.

"Uh, sorry," he muttered self-consciously. "I didn't mean to accuse you of-" He trailed off, busying himself with stirring the sauce instead for a moment until she lightly touched his arm to indicate that his drink was ready. He had never been a big fan of fruit juice and, to be honest, both his parents' and his own stock had never outgrown the range of apple or orange juice, so he took a tentative sip.

"I hope you like it. I needed to find a replacement for my white wine when I got pregnant with Tommy and I found that this works for me," Sharon told him, sipping her own drink. A bit of it stuck to her upper lip and he was unduly fascinated by the tip of her tongue that slipped out and licked it away without actually trying to be seductive.

"I really like it," he told her truthfully. "I don't think I've ever had cranberry juice before."

She smiled again and nodded; her smile was as fleeting and short-lived as the ones before but this time it left a soft, glowing expression on her usually guarded face.

"If you like it a bit stronger, you can also use sirup, but that's a little too sweet for my tastes. Now, how's the sauce coming along?" She took a step towards him, holding her drink as confidently as if it was a glass of wine and he imagined her, her slender fingers wrapped around he handle of a wine glass, wearing something more revealing and stepping closer not to examine the contents of the pan, but to intentionally brush against him. He mentally upbraided himself for those thoughts. He was lucky enough to be invited back with her and maybe she was just feeling indebted to him for helping her set up the house. The worst thing he could do now was to ruin everything by hitting on her. Instead of commenting on her close proximity or worse, touching her small waist, he stepped aside and ripped open the packet of pasta a little more forcefully than intended.

"We can eat as soon as these are finished."

She nodded. "Great. I'll set the table."

From the corner of his eye, he watched her put a new tablecloth on the small table by the window, take plates and cutlery out and arrange it all neatly around to long white candles in candle holders that looked positively antique; actually they looked as if they belonged in a huge, expensively furnished residence, not this small but homey house. Andy found himself liking them as they reminded him of long-forgotten vacations at his great-grandparent's house in Italy. She carried two large plates over to the stove and watched as he dropped the pasta into the boiling water. There was a short, but heavy silence.

"So your meetings are going well?" she asked him, looking up at him with an honest, somewhat concerned look. She was rapidly going through her drink and he couldn't help but wonder whether she applied such determination to alcoholic beverages as well.

"Yeah," he said simply, not sure what to tell her. "My sponsor is great. Name's Joel. The guy's hard to describe but we get along well."

She nodded, employing that weird little smile again that made her seem as mysterious as a sphinx. It seemed not deliberate but just an outward sign of her caution around him or – perhaps – anyone.

"That's really good," she said.

He prepared two plates of the simple but tasty meal and set them onto the table, gingerly sitting down opposite her. Sharon was waiting, her fork poised, for him to make himself comfortable. He almost smiled at the napkin in her lap and the way she was sitting perfectly upright. Only when he ate the first bite, he noticed how hungry he was. So much determination was going into trying to deal with his daily woes without the numbing comfort of alcohol that he often forgot to eat or drink enough which provided him with dizziness and headaches. Andy watched Sharon take a bite and was glad when her face lit up as she chewed.

"Andy, that's amazing food!" she complimented him and he could tell from the look on her face that she was her enthusiasm was genuine. "Do you have any more secret recipes that you can share with me?"

"Plenty," he said. "but I'm not so sure whether you're talented enough to follow the instructions."

She snickered at his teasing. "I have a reputation of always following the rules," she said, a little proudly.

They spent their dinner lightly chatting about people at work that were mutually disliked by everyone throughout the LAPD and avoided any touchy subjects. Andy would have liked to ask her about her husband, but didn't think that they knew each other well enough. She sure knew how to dodge questions she didn't like to answer which made for awkward silences that he didn't care for tonight. Sans his equally loyal and destructive friend alcohol, he felt fragile and jittery, suddenly sober in a world that seemed much easier to live in while intoxicated. But something drove him, a little voice inside him that told him that enough was enough and that his downward spiral would continue if he didn't put a stop to all of it. And some part in it, he was sure, was also owed to Sharon Raydor who sipped Cranberry and Soda as if it was the local winery's finest and who could laugh without making a sound.

By the time he helped her wash the dishes, they had become almost perfectly at ease in each other's presence without actually having shared anything more intimate than their mutual hatred of the negligent prick that had been made Chief of Police a few months previously. They shared a joke or two about the night they'd first met when she saw him to the door and this time she let him squeeze her arm goodbye and when he turned around at the end of her short driveway she still stood, illuminated by the lights from the hall, raising a hand in a silent farewell.

That night, Andy slept better than he had in weeks.

* * *

The cafeteria was always stuffy and reeked of stale food and rancid grease. As usual, Andy found it overcrowded and therefore noisy as too many voices tried to make themselves heard over the chatter that filled the room. He didn't even really know why he was here. Maybe, he reckoned, to be able to keep the company of his fellow squad members at Robbery/Homicide. They came here every day and so he had to tag along if he wanted to avoid dropping by his favorite deli across the street that, inconveniently, was located right next to a liquor store. He felt weary and beaten after having had to take witness statements in a case that involved a twelve year old girl that had been in the wrong place at the wrong time and was now in the local hospital ICU, fighting for her life. He didn't want to be alone, mostly so he wouldn't be able to convince himself that just one drink on his lunch break wouldn't hurt. He had done it so many times before, had slugged down two or three tumblers of hard liquor to then stagger back into the office and receive pitying or disgusted looks. He couldn't be that man anymore and he would put up a fight against the sly, needy Andy Flynn that was somewhere inside his skull, demanding a drink to drown out the image of the little girl, lying in a pool of her own blood, faintly whimpering for her mother.

He followed the others towards the counter with a moody expression. Except for a poorly stocked salad bar with dry vegetables and yellowing lettuce, there were only two meals to choose from and neither appealed to him very much. Andy didn't only like to cook, he liked to eat well, too, and there was nothing desirable about today's choice. While he was pondering which would be worse – soft greasy fries and a suspicious-looking piece of meat or a vegetarian lasagna that looked as if someone had stepped on it – he saw someone from the corner of his eye. Turning slightly, he looked into the bloodshot eyes of his former mid-daily drinking companion Danny Samson. He knew all about his unfaithful wife and truanting teenager, but they were still not on a first name basis, so he nodded politely.

"Hello, Lieutenant Samson, how's it?" The man was bulky, broad-shouldered and had once been handsome, but the alcohol had left its marks by giving him blotchy skin and a bloated belly. For a fleeting second, Andy felt disgust for whom he would have called a friend, or at least acquaintance, not too long ago. Samson was letting himself go and what he was faced with here, was his future if he didn't stick to his resolutions and AA-meetings.

"It's actually Detective now," Samson snapped, clearly in one of his bad moods and even more clearly intoxicated. Having been drinking – an alcoholic, Andy had to remind himself – for a long time, the other man famously kept several flasks of scotch inside his desk drawers and jackets and thus had no need to pop out to the liquor store in order to be drunk before lunch.

"Detective-?" Andy asked and found his two squad mates, Jim Basil and Steven Hanks turn to him with mild interest.

"Yeah. Screwed up a few months back, you know. Had a little run in with a witness - real son of a bitch - and FID made sure I got punished."

Andy was pretty sure that the other man wouldn't be telling him the story of his embarrassing misfortune if he wasn't drunk and he found himself wondering how much long he'd be kept on the force if he continued like this. Samson could hold his liquor well so he could only guess as to what huge amounts he must have downed before he came here.

"Oh, sorry to hear that," he said, although he really wasn't. While Samson was friendly enough when they were drinking together, Andy knew in his heart of hearts that he was a spectacular failure when it came to being a cop. His lapses endangered others and that made him a liability; just like him, Andy realized, who had gotten his gun taken off him in a bar. He was just lucky that nothing worse had happened.

"That little bitch," Samson growled, slurring his words now. His breath was heavy with alcohol and Andy curled his lip, unnoticed by his red-faced companion who seemed to be working himself into a rage. Judging from his trembling hands, his state of intoxication and the fact that Andy had not yet heard about his being reduced in rank through the grapevine, it must have happened recently. "All those women swarming the force," Samson ranted on. "but FID's the worst. Pretty ass she had, but that's about it."

He looked at something behind Flynn and his eyes narrowed. "Little know-it-all thinks she can do whatever she likes! She's got it coming!" And with that he marched past Andy who turned wearily but then stopped in his tracks. Behind him stood Sharon, eying the contents of her tray with some disdain while she was proceeding towards the check-out. Her full work attire consisted of blouse, skirt and matching blazer that would have made her look prim and strict if not for her wavy long hair that fell over her shoulders. She was with a tall, lanky redhead named Stewart Dawson who was unfortunate to be – in a regrettable lack of originality - nicknamed "Ginger" among the force. He, too, was working for Internal Affairs which explained his unpopularity despite his good spirits and friendly nature. He was saying something to her about her unappetizing salad when Samson approached, too fast and staggering and regarded with disgust or alarm by the other cops.

"I wonder how you got into the force in the first place, you little hussy! Slept with the chief, I'm sure!" he spat into her startled face. Andy drew a blank when he tried to assess whether Samson would hurt a woman, but maybe it didn't matter, anyway, as he was drunk and the booze had a way of messing with your morals. Andy sat down his yet empty tray and tried to make his way towards Samson and Sharon through the gathering crowd. It was sad to see, he thought, that cops were just as voyeuristic and unhelpful when interested and on their lunch break. I didn't help that Sharon was FID, either. Her only allies in this unequal battle seemed to be Ginger and him, Andy.

"You should watch what you're saying," she said coldly but at the same time took an instinctive step backwards. Her face was a completely expressionless mask but he could see that her knuckles were white from holding on to her try like a shield.

"I've been an officer since before you even graduated high school, you little shit, and then you come along and try to take my life's achievement from me!"

It was almost painful to see that no one tried to stop Samson from insulting Sharon. Despite his raging alcoholism, he was popular as he had been a good cop before his addiction had flared up and made him like this. Andy now saw him for what he was, a bumbling, staggering idiot who was making a fool of himself by insulting someone who had, presumably, only done her job. He wondered whether he was the only one who noticed because he was technically still in danger of becoming like him but maybe their mutual dislike for FID officers in general overrode anything else; either way, nobody cared to intervene before things got out of hand.

"Knock it off, okay?" Ginger said in his high voice, his thin arms in the as always baggy-looking suit barely a threat compared to Samson's meaty limbs.

"I suggest we end this here," Sharon agreed and made to leave but Samson blocked her way. For the first time Andy saw fear flicker in her eyes and decided that this was enough. He didn't care much whether Samson would hate him from now on or whether he would be subject to vicious gossip as to why he felt the need to protect a woman from FID, but he didn't want Sharon hurt and it was where this was going rapidly. To get his body between Sharon's and Samson's, however, he needed to get through the crowd of people who had gathered and it was difficult to get to the front when everyone wanted to see what was going on.

Samson grabbed Sharon's tray and hurled it against her upper body, leaving her gasping as the dressing seeped into her white blouse. Scattered laughs were heard at her predicament before they were drowned out by the sound of the tray slipping from her grasp and crashing on to the linoleum floor at her feet. Samson gave a hollow laugh that made Andy dare to hope that he would leave her be now after humiliating her in front of half of the LAPD, but he was wrong. Samson approached Sharon and grabbed her upper arm, making her wince. Still trying to save face, she hissed at him to consider the consequences of his actions, but he was drunk and, apparently, beyond caring. His second paw-like hand landed on Sharon's other shoulder and she staggered backwards when he gave her a hard shove.

"I'll make you pay, I swear, I'll make you pay!" His voice was quivering now with what sounded like unshed tears and Andy was becoming seriously worried. He finally managed to squeeze his body through those of the other onlookers and rushed towards Sharon the same moment that Ginger tried to physically brave Samson's attack. Sharon stepped back and pressed both hands on to her belly to protect her baby, sending a shocked gasp through the crowd when they noticed her condition for the first time. Seeing an FID officer's cage getting rattled was one thing, but now that they saw that she was pregnant they knew that they should have stepped in a lot earlier. Andy gently pushed her aside before he joined the unequal fight. The crowd half-groaned, half-cheered, believing that he was in it to help his buddy Samson and a sudden silence fell over the room when he manhandled him to the side and planted his fist squarely onto his nose.

"Get a grip, man!" Andy yelled. "Go to the bathroom and sober up, will you?"

"Says you!" Someone from the crowd snickered but Andy didn't bother turning around to see who it was. Samson was crying now, an unfamiliar, dreadful wailing that made Andy's skin crawl. The man was a wreck, a shadow of himself and he had probably just ended his own career once and for all. He felt pity as well as fury at the shell of the man who'd once been respected and liked. People were staring at him now, wondering what had gotten into him and maybe whether he was drunk as well, but he just turned around to find Sharon Raydor standing rigidly with her head held high, her arms by her sides. She bared the crowd and walked directly towards the exit, not caring whether anyone was in her way. People stepped aside, avoiding her gaze as she marched out, her body trembling visibly. Andy stood and stared at her for a moment while she walked, unable to discern whether she was shaking with fear or fury.

"What are you looking at?" he scowled at noone in particular and followed through the gap she'd caused in the crowd of people. He hurried to catch up with her but found her vanishing into the ladies room at the end of the corridor. Being spotted in there and reported was not a big deal normally, but with his track record of blunt flirting (while drunk) and his wide range of misdemeanors, he shouldn't have risked it. Andy opened the door anyway and froze at the sound of violent retching coming from one of the cubicles. He wanted to call out to her, but then decided to grant her some privacy and locked the door after making sure that they were alone. Minutes later the toilet was flushed and Sharon came out, still holding her hair back. She was pale and her clothes were stained with oil and vinegar, pieces of lettuce still clinging to the fabric of her blouse. She immediately averted her eyes when she spotted Andy and walked towards the sink to wash up. He let her rinse her mouth and run water over her wrists before he addressed her.

"Are you okay?"

She whirled around, apparently still furious. "Do I look okay to you?" But it seemed to dawn on her who she was talking to and her expression softened. "Sorry," she added. "Yes, I am okay."

Always in possession of mints to hide the telltale smell on his breath, Andy dug around his pocket and handed the small box to her. She nodded gratefully and popped a few into her mouth then tried to give it back but he declined.

"It's okay. I don't really need them at the moment." He gave her a lopsided grin and she seemed to understand because she wrestled them into her jacket pocket with some difficulty before she washed her hands again and looked at her stained shirt in dismay.

"He didn't hurt you, did he?" Andy inquired and she just shook her head and ran her fingers through her hair to make herself look presentable again. He was astonished, to say the least. Any other woman he knew would have at least allowed herself some tears or would have sought comfort from her savior, but Sharon just soldiered on. He wondered whether that was healthy at all because she was still shaking like a leaf although she was trying to hide it.

He shoved his hands into his pockets to look nonchalant.

"You know, I guess you owe me another dinner now." She looked up at him, at the brink of snapping again. He took one hand out of his pocket and made a leisurely circle in the air, shrugging. "I saved your ass _and_ I sort-of revealed to everyone in the LAPD that we're friends."

"Friends?" she asked, much like she had the last time. "You helped me around the house and we had dinner once. Little to go on when it comes to a friendship."

"You forgot that you made me go to AA and that I gave you mints for your spectacularly bad breath, Sharon Raydor."

He wasn't sure whether he'd gone too far until she looked up and laughed. It was a low, barking sound that seemed to be caused by her considerable tautness of nerves but it was enough for him. He could tell that she didn't want to be coddled by him, so humor seemed to be in order. She almost shrunk back when he reached out to pick an overlooked lettuce leaf off her jacket.

"From the looks of that shit, you don't have to miss that salad, really."

She rolled her eyes. "I hated the cafeteria even before this happened. Tomorrow it will be back to packed lunches."

He shrugged again. "I know a nice deli just across the street. They make great salads. None of the guys go there. They think it's too girly." She raised both of her eyebrows at him, waiting until he added: "Much like Cranberry and Soda."

He was rewarded with a completely unexpected giggle that turned into a long overdue sob. Her hand covering her mouth and nose, she stepped towards the door. She seemed ashamed of the tears that she was successfully fighting down and Andy decided to ignore them just like he would have to ignore the others' banter. Something in Sharon Raydor struck him and made him want him to be close to her. Maybe it was the prospect of being able to have lunch at the deli again as that nasty voice inside him urging him to go to the liquor store right beside it and get a drink wouldn't have a say when Sharon was with him.

He just knew.

**Edit**: I just fixed a little irregularity that was pointed out to me in a review. In my first version of this chapter, I didn't get across that the other cops didn't actually know that Sharon was pregant when the whole thing with Samson happened. Thank you, Murphycat! :)


	3. Part Three

**[ Part Three ]**

Battling alcoholism meant facing your fears and admitting to ugly truths on a daily basis and although it was painful and – at times – humiliating, Andy was honest with himself. He no longer tried to repress negative thoughts but carefully examined them instead, no matter how much they made his stomach churn. Joel was more helpful than Andy would have ever imagined the scruffy guy capable of being. Pushing forty, the other man wore faded hoodies and jeans with trainers that Andy wouldn't have even worn to the gym and smoked like a chimney; his messy light-brown hair and the ever-present stubble on his chin added to the impression of deliberate neglect. Still, his comments - though usually riddled with expletives - were surprisingly insightful and Andy took great comfort in the fact that he wasn't being patronized. Joel simply spoke his mind in his own, blunt way and that made it easier for Andy to weigh his arguments instead of dismissing them right away whenever they held unpleasant implications.

There was one thing in his life that he didn't try – or dare – dissect and that was his relationship with Sharon Raydor. After the ugly scene at the cafeteria, they had taken up meeting at the deli for lunch almost every day. In the beginning they had always arranged to meet again the next day, but after a few weeks it had become a fixed date that didn't need to be specifically agreed upon anymore. Instead they would call each other if one of them couldn't make it on a work-related matter. Andy noticed, to his own dislike, that whenever she canceled, he found himself in a gloom and he always went out of his way to prevent cancellations on his own behalf. He didn't want to think about whether he had feelings for her that went beyond the boundaries of friendship, but there was something to be said about the way he tried not to look at her too closely until she was seated across from him, her belly disguised by the table. Sometimes he forced himself to take in her whole body when she entered the deli and he was already waiting and it gave him a definite feeling of unhappiness. Today was such a day and he found that he'd avoided looking at her for so long that he had missed the fact that her baby had grown considerably over the previous weeks. No longer would anyone not notice the fact that she was pregnant and it filled him with a curious sense of disappointment that tasted almost like jealousy. However, it also made him realize in wonder that they'd been meeting up for lunch for three whole weeks now and he reveled in her easy smile when she sat down across from him with her usual salad and sparkling water.

"We'll have to find another place to eat as soon as I don't fit into these booths anymore," she joked uneasily as she tried to find a comfortable position on the bench.

"Or we could sue them for discrimination against pregnant women because they make them too small," he shot back, digging into his sandwich.

"I forgot how awfully clumsy that big belly makes me feel," she said gloomily, obviously in a pensive mood. "I used to be a ballet dancer in college, you know. Now I feel like a dancing hippo at best."

The little piece of information had just slipped out and reminded him that their daily lunches had brought about nothing but easy, comfortable conversation so far and he wasn't actually much closer to finding out about her background. Maybe it was the fact that she was addressing the subject of her pregnancy today, which didn't happen too often, or maybe it just irked him but he suddenly felt impatient to learn more about her. So Andy lunged at her statement like a dog would at a particularly tasty slab of meat.

"Really? Were you good?"

It occurred to him that he had no idea whether she was the type of woman who would downplay her own achievements or whether she'd gloat and it fed his growing mood. His anger dissolved immediately when she shrugged in a perfectly unpretentious way.

"Good enough for my college's production of Swan Lake but it wasn't exactly the Bolshoi Theater of Russia. And by that I mean I was a pretty good amateur but nowhere near being talented enough to become a professional."

"What else did you do in college?" he asked and added a dumb joke for good measure: "Hot lesbian experiences that you would like to tell me all about?"

Another one of Sharon's more obvious character traits was that she ignored comments that she found misplaced or rude but one could never be sure whether she would get back to them later or not. She didn't even flinch at his immature innuendo.

"I majored in Criminal Studies, predictably, and then signed up for the LAPD. My parents were furious."

Now that was interesting.

"Why?" he simply asked, holding back on any sarcastic remarks in fear of having to endure one of her condescending silences. Sharon put a piece of tomato into her mouth and looked at him over the table. Her expression looked deliberately neutral which was a sure sign that some emotion was connected to what she was about to say.

"My parents are... old-fashioned," she said carefully. "I grew up in New York City with ballet lessons, debutant balls and vacations in the Hamptons. The last thing they wanted me to do was become a police officer, especially in a town like Los Angeles."

Andy was stunned but not overly surprised. The way she conducted herself, the unwavering self-confidence and the hints of wealth that were scattered among her house definitely pointed towards a very privileged upbringing.

"Did they disown you or something when you joined the academy?" he asked, really curious now but she shook her head with a sad smile.

"My parents aren't like that. They don't openly oppose things. They just... disagree in a silent, yet very obvious way. And they thought I married well, so I didn't disappoint completely."

She took a sip of water and raised her brows when he looked at her expectantly.

"Why did you want to become a police officer?"

"I wanted the world to be a better place, I guess," she said. "And I've always enjoyed firing guns." She raised one corner of her mouth in a dark half-smile that made his fingertips tingle.

"And yet you ended up in FID."

"And it's impossible to better the world when you're busy investigating your fellow officers, you mean?" Her tone had become snide and she continued before he could say anything else: "It's actually important to make sure that cops follow the rules. Police violence is dangerous and people have greater faith in the force if there is someone to make sure professional standards are being upheld." Her gaze softened somewhat. "And I've always wanted children which is a lot easier when you're in FID. More reasonable hours and less hazardous situations." She gave a humorless laugh. "Unless your fellow officers decide that you have to be punished for doing your job."

The topic of Samson hadn't come up between them again but Andy knew that he had been suspended, his disciplinary case pending and being handled by Sharon's captain. He watched her eat for a moment and noticed the small signs that gave away the fact that she was slowly trying to regain what little of her composure had slipped during her previous revelations.

"I'd like to go back to active duty once my children are grown," she said somewhat dreamily. "but it's notoriously difficult to make the transition. Someone would have to be very confident in my abilities as an investigator and I don't really see that happening."

"So you're okay with having another child?" Andy asked, having finished his sandwich and sipping his coke, trying to get his attention away from the nagging thought that it would taste better with a splash of whiskey in it.

"Yes, of course. It wasn't exactly planned, but she is definitely wanted."

"A girl then!" Andy said, not sure what to make of it. "Too bad. You could have named a boy after me."

"Why would I do that?" Her twitching eyebrow was the only thing that gave away the fact that she was teasing him.

"I don't know. Because I'm your favorite lunch partner?"

She smiled, nodding and placing her cutlery aside. "Fair enough."

He knew that this was the perfect opportunity to find out about her husband but, it seemed, so did she and she quickly changed the topic to talk about a popular rumor that a notorious Detective named Provenza had somehow managed to get himself in trouble again. He grinned when she mentioned that she'd recently slapped him with a report because of his misogyny, but his mind was elsewhere, in a place that he didn't want to consciously go to.

* * *

Andy hadn't been to Sharon's since their dinner and he was once again surprised how inviting the little house felt even from the outside. Clutching the shopping bag, he took the two steps and waited on the porch for her to open the door. She'd called this morning to cancel their lunch, telling him that Tommy was sick so she had to stay home. Sensing an opportunity to spend an evening with her, he had committed to the selfless act of bringing her groceries and more medicine. Evenings were the hardest. Upon closer scrutiny of his habits and relationships, Andy had had to admit to himself that most of his current friendships were firmly based on spending nights in bars and drinking. Joel had promised him that there would be a time when he'd be able to enter bars again and spend time with his buddies there without being in immediate danger of relapsing, but for now it was completely out of the question. He was still sensitive when it came to the subject of his alcoholism, so he refused to ask his friends to meet him somewhere else without drinking which led to his spending most of his nights alone in front of the television. Being alone with his thoughts drove him crazy sometimes and it took great restraint not to try and comfort himself with the bottle. Sharon's home seemed like a save haven compared to anywhere else and he felt instant calm settling over him when he stepped over the threshold.

Sharon looked the sort of tired that he immediately associated with the caring for a sick small child. There was weariness and exhaustion paired with concern because when you hadn't been a parent for a long time, every tiny illness seemed like a looming danger. He remembered when his son had caught a cold at three and he'd rushed him to the ER only to be sent home with a pitying smile and a box of tissues.

Without thinking about it, he pulled her in for half a hug with his free arm and kissed the air next to her temple. She smelled of sleep and oranges and he had the sudden urge to wrap himself around her and never let go. At the same time, he had no idea whether he was yearning for that in order to comfort her or to comfort himself.

"Thanks for coming, Andy. Tommy just fell asleep but I'd like to make him some chicken soup for when he wakes up." Her voice cracked. "He has quite a fever."

They walked into the living-room where the boy was curled up on the sofa under several woolen blankets, holding on to his teddy bear, his face pale with flushed cheeks.

"Did you take him to the doctor?" he asked and she nodded.

"This morning. Yes. It's the flu. Poor baby."

They tiptoed into the adjoining kitchen where Sharon began to unpack the groceries Andy had bought, smiling at the wide range of chocolate products he'd purchased.

"He has difficulty eating due to his throatache," she relayed. "I don't think he'll be able to appreciate these until he gets better."

Andy shrugged. "I actually brought them for you, you know. To calm your nerves."

She looked grateful both at the gesture and the fact that he understood her concern. Soon a pot of soup was simmering on the stove and Andy was left alone in the kitchen while Sharon checked on her son in the other room. His eyes were drawn towards a stack of documents on the kitchen table and he found himself stepping closer to have a look. It seemed like legal papers to him, but he couldn't make out what exactly they entailed. It wasn't divorce, he could tell, since he'd been staring at his own divorce papers for two nights in a row before he'd signed them with tears in his eyes and the burning of vodka in his throat. She came back in before he could investigate any further and stirred the soup.

"Is this a family recipe that you could teach me?" he asked.

"Not really. My parents didn't cook themselves. I got this one out of a magazine that I was rather embarrassed to be seen buying."

They shared a grin at the thought of Sharon buying housewife's magazines.

"Too bad," he said. "I hope it helps."

There was the sound of crying from the other room and he followed her in to find her on the couch, holding her son in her lap. His eyes were a bit glassy and Sharon flinched when her lips touched his forehead.

"He's burning up," she said in a flat voice, cradling the child closer to her.

"My mother used to swear by leg compresses," he said. "Do you want to try?"

She nodded, if hesitantly, and he brought her wet cloths that she wrapped around her son's calves. Tommy protested with a low wail but then quickly fell back asleep when she wrapped him in his blankets again and adjusted his pillows. Andy listened to the string of whispered terms of endearments and thought of his own children who'd recently been relocated to San Diego. His wife had found a new boyfriend and he spent his darkest hours imagining the man playing with his kids while they called him "Daddy". His customary thoughts of Sharon's husband returned to the forefront of his mind when he watched taking care of her son. Where was he when the little one was ill? Had he left the family? Or was he a danger to the child? Her parents thought she had married well... maybe the guy was rich but less than interested in his son? Could someone like Sharon be such a spectacularly bad judge of character? Or was she able to fall in love head over heels just like anyone else, blinded by her feelings? He looked at her belly. Things had obviously been okay enough to have sex until five months ago. Tommy coughed and he was snapped out of his thoughts when Sharon got up and walked over to him. She looked strangely distraught and her usual self-control was suddenly lacking. Following a subconscious impulse, Andy reached out to touch her cheek and found his suspicion confirmed.

"Sharon, you're sick," he said matter-of-factly, holding on to her arm as she tried to pull away. "You should be in bed."

"It's not that bad," she murmured, trying to walk past him again, but he refused to let her go.

"Do I really have to remind you that you're carrying a child, Sharon? You need to take it easy."

As much as he wished that she wasn't pregnant, he didn't want any harm to come to her baby. For a moment they tried to stare each other down, then she surrendered; he could see it in her defeated expression and decided to act before she changed her mind.

"Go up to bed. I'll bring you some tea in a minute."

She looked uncomfortable depending on him, so he rolled his eyes. "Oh god, Sharon. Don't pull that one on me. We've already established that we're friends, so I might as well play nurse to you and Tommy for a while. I'm sure you'll be able to pay me back someday."

He left unspoken the fact, however, that she was already repaying him by giving him something to do and a reason to stay. Sharon turned towards Tommy without answering and scooped him up into her arms to carry him upstairs. Andy would have liked to do it for her, but he didn't think she would allow him to take any more responsibility from her so he followed her into the hall to see them upstairs safely. Ten minutes later he climbed the stairs with two steaming mugs of tea, taking a deep breath before opening the door to her bedroom. It was bigger than Tommy's room but still small enough to look a little crammed with only a bed, wardrobe and dresser. If he hadn't already been convinced that she was living alone, he would have been now. The bed was definitely too small for two and there wasn't even the slightest trace of a male presence in the room. Sharon was curled up under her covers, Tommy's head resting against her chest.

"Is he better?" Andy asked, placing her tea on the nightstand next to her and she nodded with considerable relief.

"I think his fever has gone down and he's sleeping a lot more soundly now."

"I should call my mother more often. She definitely taught me some useful stuff." He gestured towards the cup of tea. "Have some before it gets cold."

She sat up and dutifully sipped the hot beverage.

"You're a good friend, Andy Flynn," she said and after a pause added: "Are you sure you're Detective Andy Flynn with the LAPD? Because your file suggests that you'd rather raid my liquor cabinet and then try to charm me into having sex with you."

She was being rather blunt, he thought, and for a moment he wasn't sure whether he was supposed to laugh or lash out at her, but then she reached out and touched his elbow lightly.

"I didn't mean to offend you," she said, her expression soft. "It just boggles my mind how you can be this sweet and have an FID jacket of that size at the same time."

"You should probably have me reassigned to someone else while you're pregnant," he said, feigning honest concern. "I'm pretty sure you shouldn't be lifting heavy objects like my file."

"Very funny," she said but he could tell that she was relieved at his lack of antagonism. "Just don't give me an opportunity to add to it."

"I hope not to," he said, suddenly uncomfortable on the edge of her bed where he had been happy to perch just a moment ago. "I haven't had a single drink for almost five weeks now and I hope to keep it up."

He still hated to talk about his drinking and so far, Joel had been the only one he really confided it. His colleagues noticed the changes in him but didn't talk about it although he could tell that they were relieved. Sharon placed her hand on his arm again and squeezed it lightly, her fingers a comforting weight that urged him to continue.

"It's only now that I realize what an idiot I've been," he said carefully. "Everything I once cared about has slipped away from me and I didn't even notice. People at work are wary of me, my friends don't call since I'm not up for a night at the bar and I-" It was harder to continue than he'd expected. "I really miss my kids," he finished quickly, afraid that his voice would break. He looked at Tommy's serene face and imagined his own son in his stead.

Sharon didn't bother with platitudes but looked at him with a sympathetic look in her eyes that was a lot easier to endure than anyone else's pity.

"I called my ex-wife last night but she's not very cooperative. I used to hate her for it, but now I can see her point. At least I could talk her into allowing me to attend my daughter's birthday party in two weeks, so that's something to look forward to." Actually Andy was terrified that his kids would be distant towards him or that the new boyfriend would antagonize him, but at the same time he felt a strong yearning to go.

He felt self-conscious at having told someone as guarded as Sharon so much about himself and so he offered to carry Tommy into his own bed so the boy's sleep wouldn't be disturbed by their talking. Sharon looked slightly doubtful for a moment but then allowed him to hoist the little boy up into his arms and tuck him into his own bed down the hall. Tommy hardly stirred when Andy fastened the sheets around his tiny body. His eyelids fluttered once but then closed again for good. Andy stared down at the child and recognized Sharon in his features for the first time. His cheeks were still a little chubby and his nose was too tiny to be placed yet, but he could see that his eyes and eyebrows had been inherited from his mother. He walked back into Sharon's room and found her finishing the last of her tea. To his surprise she patted the empty space next to her on the bed. He followed her invitation and sat down on the covers, feeling stupid in his work clothes but glad that he had taken his shoes off earlier.

"Make yourself comfortable, friend," she said with an amused smile and so he took off his tie and jacket, rolling up his shirt sleeves to have something to do. She had changed into pajamas, he noticed, and the way the top clung to her breasts was a little distracting to say the least. Her turning towards him didn't help and he felt himself wishing that she would pull the covers up again. Unfortunately she had noticed the direction of his gaze and actually smiled. Maybe it was the fever, he consoled himself.

"Are you staring, Andy?" she asked, now definitely amused. "That's actually a little flattering, me being pregnant _and_ sick."

He was glad that she wasn't mad at him. "Why the surprise? My daughter used to love dancing hippos," he told her and, to his relief, she got the reference to what she had said a few days ago at the deli. Otherwise she might have ripped his head off in a rage.

"What else does she like? What's her name?"

"Anna," he said quietly. "She turns nine next week and she loved horses when I last saw her." Which had been three months ago, a long time in a child's life.

"Horses," Sharon said. "I used to take riding lessons when I was a kid."

"Of course you did, Princess Diana," he teased her.

"Maybe I could recommend to you some books that I read back then," she said pensively. "I'm sure she'd like them."

"Sounds good."

"Oh, and: progress!" Sharon said, earning her a quizzical look. "You didn't ask me whether I made out with my girlfriends in the hayrick."

"Did you?"

She laughed again, launching into a coughing fit that didn't sound good. When it was over, she leaned her head back against the wall and closed her eyes for a moment, her exhaustion clearly showing. She finally pulled her covers up, shivering slightly.

"The thing I hate most about the flu is being cold," she said darkly but he couldn't tell whether it was an invitation – or even request – to warm her up or not. "No amount of blankets helps," she added, sulking.

With horror he found himself say "I'm a good blanket."

The silence between them was almost palpable for a moment and he wondered whether he should just backtrack and make a reference to their earlier girl-on-girl jokes to laugh it off. Instead he waited it out, holding her gaze.

"Andy..." she said in a voice that was so quiet that he hardly recognized it as hers. He wasn't sure whether she was sensing his now rather undeniable interest and was trying to let him down easy or whether she just didn't know what else to say and it made him nervous.

"A friendly blanket," he emphasized in case it was the first. Sharon smiled.

"Be warned. I kick in my sleep."

"I expected no less," he said, feeling a little faint as she inched closer to him, putting her head on his outstretched arm. Hesitantly and unsure where exactly to put his hand, he wrapped his other arm around her and pulled her into him, grateful for the barrier the covers created between them just in case his thoughts would wander.

"You're a rather tentative blanket, Andy," she told him with mock sternness. "You can put your hand on my hip. That doesn't count as groping."

He released a snort of laughter. She was certainly guarded when it came to her secrets, but physical closeness didn't seem to bother her. Maybe she even relished it, he thought as he felt her snuggling into his side for warmth and – he was sure – comfort.

"Oh god, the rumors are true," he said. "I'm now officially in bed with FID."

"You see, I am going beyond the call of duty to keep you in line."

"Does that mean you do this for everyone who keeps being out of line? Because if word gets around, there might be riots."

"Oh yes. There's nothing more desirable than snuggling up with a dancing hippo, I am sure," she murmured sleepily and he felt her body relax in his arms. She was such a contradiction, he thought, in allowing him so close to her while she was always so distant. He remained silent when she turned around so they ended up spooning, her back flush against his chest. He caught the smell of her shampoo and felt the softness of her skin under his fingertips when he gingerly placed his hand on hers in a tight embrace.

He was genuinely surprised when he found his mind shutting down, too, while listening to her deep shallow breaths. Sleep didn't come easily to him these days but the comforting presence of his friend in his arms helped him relax. He fell asleep without thinking about alcohol for the first time since he'd stopped drinking.


	4. Part Four

**[ Part Four ]**

**A/N**: Warning! There's an autopsy in here. I tried to avoid mentioning too many details, but be warned if you're easily offended.

Andy woke up to something tickling his nose and a weird yet strangely familiar sensation under his palms. He opened his eyes, confused and still sleepy, to find that his face was half-buried in a mass of auburn hair that looked almost red in the light of the early morning sun that was filtering through the sheer curtains. His first thought was one of panic. How had he ended up here? Had he been drinking last night? What day was it? Then the haze lifted from his mind and he remembered that he was with Sharon and that it was, in fact, Saturday, so he wouldn't have to worry about work. Suddenly conscious of his position, he discovered that he was now under the covers with her, his arms firmly wrapped around the still sleeping woman and his palms resting over her swollen abdomen. He found that while she was lying quite still, her unborn baby was already awake and moving. His first reaction was to pull his hand back quickly, but then he pressed down lightly instead where his touch was met with another flutter of movement. Sharon stirred, her back moving against his chest and gave a sleepy hum. Andy gave her a moment to adjust to their close proximity and was relieved when she turned around with a faint smile instead of the expression of dread he had half-expected to see.

"Good morning," she said, placing her hand on top of his as if to keep him from pulling it back. "You spent the night." It was one of her neutral statements that he couldn't place. Was she criticizing him or was she surprised – grateful even?

"I nodded off and didn't wake up until two minutes ago," he replied, trying not to sound too apologetic.

"Are you as good at making breakfast as you are at cooking dinner?" she asked mischievously but patted his hand before he could answer. "I'm just joking. You've done quite enough."

"Are you feeling better?" he asked, still a little drowsy and very comfortable with her snuggled up to him.

"Much," she said. "I have to admit I was feeling quite under the weather and my baby was awfully quiet yesterday, too."

"Well, I guess that's been remedied. She's moving like crazy." It was only now that both of them realized that they were basically holding hands over her belly in addition to practically melting into each other under the same covers. She sat up the very moment he decided to pull his hand back and run it through his hair instead. The awkward moment that ensued evaporated when she swung her legs over the side of the bed and turned back to him as soon as she was on her feet.

"I'm going to go check on Tommy. There's a spare toothbrush in the bathroom cabinet but I'm afraid it's decorated with Disney princesses. Tommy refused to use it because he thinks it's too girly but I guess you're above that?"

"Hardly," Andy deadpanned. "I'm a manly man. When I said we could be friends I didn't mean to sign up for being your _girl_friend."

Sharon paused where she was halfway out the door and tilted her head slightly while looking at him with a little smile. "Why not? If you're lucky you get to make out with me in the hayrick." With just a hint of a wink she vanished into the hall, leaving him with a dry mouth. Had she just flirted with him or was she just joking around? Sharon had never before given him any indication that she was interested in more than friendship but she always weighed what she was saying so carefully that he couldn't imagine her being unaware of the overtones of what she had just said. Either way, he decided that a cold shower was in order.

Twenty minutes later he found mother and son downstairs on the couch where she was sipping tea and he was nibbling on a small piece of toast, looking better but not completely cured yet. They both looked up when he entered and Sharon indicated the coffee table where a cup of coffee and a bowl of strawberries were waiting for him. He sat and took a sip of the black coffee while Sharon leaned into Tommy and kissed the top of his head.

"Andy liked the toothbrush with the Disney princesses," she told him, beaming at Andy from the corner of her eyes. "He didn't think they were just for girls."

Tommy looked up at Andy and wrinkled his nose. "But it's pink!" he protested, his piece of toast abandoned. His critical look wavered soon as he lost interest in the conversation and so he pulled his legs up and curled into his mother's side, closing his eyes. Seeing him still so sick, Andy wondered how much of Sharon's recovery was for real and to what extent she was just pretending to be better.

"Mommy," came Tommy's quiet voice while Sharon helped herself to a single strawberry.

"Yes, honey?"

"Can Daddy read me a story?"

There was a beat of silence and a horrifying second during which Andy wondered whether Sharon's son had just referred to him as "Daddy". Sharon dropped her strawberry but ignored it lying on the floor next to her foot. Frozen in place as he was, Andy made no attempt to bend down and pick it up for her. He could tell that Sharon was deliberately avoiding to look at him and was tempted to leave the room but then his curiosity won out and he remained seated. He was sure that Sharon would ask for him to leave if she insisted on a moment of privacy and he was ready to grant her that request if she made it. Instead she leaned down and stroked her son's cheek.

"Daddy's not here, baby-"

Tommy interrupted her, his face scrunched up, signaling an impending meltdown. "But when is he coming back?" His small voice broke at the last word, along with Flynn's heart both for Sharon's son and his own children who might or might not still be asking the same question. He wondered whether his ex-wife was like Sharon - who looked torn between lying to her child and telling the truth - or whether she was less scrupulous. How could you burden a four year old with the truth – whatever it might be in her case? But giving him false hope of an imminent reunion seemed just as wrong. Andy didn't envy Sharon.

"How about we call him later?" her voice was a little hoarse now, her posture rigid and uneasy.

"But I wanna call him now!" Tommy's eyes were swimming in tears, his hands clenched into two tiny angry fists. Andy watched him swallow and take a deep breath, which he knew from experience with children was the prelude to a full-blown bout of crying. He could see the different emotions playing out on Sharon's face; she looked torn for a moment but then leaned down and wrapped one of her hands around Tommy's fist.

"It's okay, honey. It's okay," she cooed. From the little glimpses Andy had had of her parenting, he was sure that she was not usually prone to letting herself be corrupted by crying. So her reaching for the cordless phone on the table next to her had not been prompted by the kid's momentary desperation, but by a deeper, more enduring feeling. He guessed guilt. Once again he thought he ought to get up and give her the privacy he was sure she craved to make the call, but as she still hadn't asked him to leave, he couldn't get himself to. She punched in a number that he was surprised she knew by heart and waited for someone to pick up. Tommy had stilled, his eyes still large and glistening with tears, but his body more relaxed and his small hand already reaching out to grab hold of the phone as soon as it was handed to him.

"This is Sharon Raydor," Sharon said, her voice even deeper than usual as she was very obviously trying to appear more composed than she actually was. "Is it possible to talk to my husband?" There was a moment of silence during which the voice at the other end of the line said something Andy didn't understand then Sharon added: "Yes, thank you. I'll wait." The ensuing silence was longer than Andy had expected and he imagined a flustered secretary running around an office and looking for Mr Raydor. He wondered what the man was doing for a living. Somehow he imagined him as a business executive in a posh suit and a red tie or something equally imposing.

"Hello, Jack." Her voice sounded completely different now, carrying a wide range of emotions that Andy couldn't identify. "Listen, Tommy's sick. No, no. Don't worry. It isn't too serious. He would just like to talk to you." Her tight expression softened slightly at something he said. "Yes, we're okay." It stung Andy to see her gently massaging her stomach while she was talking to her husband. "I've had an ultrasound done. It's a girl. Yes, she is. Perfectly fine." Her eyes met Andy's and she dropped her hand, schooling her features. "Here's Tommy. Bye, Jack."

She handed the phone over to Tommy who greeted his father as enthusiastically as Andy had expected. His face screwed up in concentration, he listened to Jack Raydor's words on the other end of the line while Sharon looked on with a vigilant look in her eyes. Andy tried to deduct whatever he could from the short conversation he'd just been witness to. Apparently she hadn't spoken to her husband in a while because she'd known her baby's gender for at least two weeks. Something as important as that would surely have come up in an earlier conversation. Maybe he lived out of state. Obviously he hadn't left on particularly angry terms because while she seemed guarded when talking to him, her voice was soft and held no trace of anger. He also didn't seem to be the disinterested parent Andy had taken him for as he was still talking to his son on the phone and had immediately inquired after his other child, too. He looked at Sharon whose attention was still completely focused on her son and found a nostalgic look in her eyes that conveyed every inch of the sadness that always seemed to eclipse her.

When Tommy finally ended the phone call, she pushed the end button without bringing the handset up to her ear again.

"Better?" she asked her son and he nodded. "Daddy misses me."

"Of course he does." Sharon smiled and ruffled her son's hair.

"He misses you too, Mommy."

Her smile didn't waver but Andy could see the skin tightening around her eyes and he was almost sure that she was biting down on the inside of her cheek. Without commenting on it, she pulled Tommy close again and turned to Andy: "Would you like more coffee?"

* * *

He hadn't expected her here of all places, but on the other hand it made a lot of sense to have FID involved in the investigation. Just this morning he had gotten the call that the little girl whose shooting his division had been investigating for a while had died at the hospital without regaining consciousness. Her having been in a coma for five weeks, the doctors had actually begun to feel optimistic that she would wake up soon but before that had happened, someone had made sure she wouldn't by injecting a deadly substance into her IV-drip. The rulebook called for FID to be involved as the hospital room had been guarded by a police officer at all times which meant that her death was due to either negligence or intent on the officer's behalf.

And now they were here to find out what exactly had been in the syringe that had been found on the floor next to the hospital bed and whether that was what had killed her. Andy had witnessed enough autopsies to have developed a thick skin against the smells and the sights that had almost made him throw up the first time he had experienced them. However, this was a child and that made it a completely different deal. His palms were sweaty and he felt sick with rage and grief for the tiny thing that lay on the stainless steel table. Even the pathologists, though always respectful towards the dead, didn't seem to be able to gain their usual distance. The white sheet thrown over the child's naked body was a clear indication as they usually didn't bother with covering the bodies between taking off their clothes and beginning the post mortem.

Andy was both relieved and mortified to find Sharon in the small anteroom when he entered. Somehow it seemed wrong to send the pregnant woman to investigate a child's death and, much worse, witness the autopsy. She already looked sick to her stomach, hugging herself while she went through the details of the case with the pathologist. The file that lay open on the table in front of Dr Miles suggested that she didn't know all the details by heart and, indeed, she told him that Ginger was sick with the flu and she had to cover his cases until he was back on his feet.

Andy had never liked the morgue but it seemed even more stuffy and hopeless today with the prospect of having to watch a small girl being cut open. Andy stood next to Sharon while the pathologist was typing and gently brushed the small of her back with his fingers. As glad as he was to have a friendly face by his side, he knew that they were about to be going through something that was likely to scar them permanently. In the harsh lights of the anteroom, she looked pale and her face was an impenetrable mask. Her arms were now crossed in front of her chest and he realized that she was trying for a position that would made her appear more composed. Andy was subconsciously mirroring her demeanor, listening to Miles filling out the form on the computer screen.

"How's Tommy?" Andy asked.

"He's fine," she replied in an equally low voice. "Thank you again for your help."

Their eyes met over her shoulder and he found himself wrapped up in a moment of unexpected intimacy. They had never worked together and he realized that he liked their comradeship a lot. In a dire situation like this one, they could hold on to each other. He could see in her eyes that she was suffering already and he, too, couldn't wait for this ordeal to be over. As they proceeded to the actual autopsy suite, he found his steps to be as tentative as hers and his heart broke at the closed eyes and pale face of the small corpse on the table. Dr Miles and his assistant started working silently except for the medical terms he spoke into the voice recorder in his hand but for all their tactfulness, there was no gentle way to go about opening up someone's head and chest.

Andy suddenly found Sharon's hand wrapped around his and squeezing it tightly when they began to cut without as much as a warning. Her hand was cold and her eyes were full of tears when she looked up at him. A silent look of understanding passed between them and he longed to pull her into his chest and hold her in his arms. Was Ginger really sick, he wondered, or was he just as desperate as everyone in his own division to not be forced to watch something as horrifying as this? As they began to remove the organs and made to open the skull, he found Sharon shaking and managed to sneak an arm around her waist before her legs could give way. Dr Miles looked up with a pitying expression but thankfully forewent one of his usual scathing comments.

"Take her outside, Flynn," the old man said. "She doesn't need to see this."

"It's okay, I can-" Sharon began, but her trembling voice betrayed her. Without listening to her feeble complaints, Andy walked her out into the anteroom with the sound of the buzz saw whining behind them. He was glad to be out, he had to admit, as his own stomach was churning and he couldn't trust himself not to be sick.

He had never seen Sharon actually come undone. Her lingering sadness was one thing, but this state was another. Being physically assaulted by Samson had rattled her, but the emotional strain the autopsy was putting on her was almost palpable. He guided her to a chair and crouched down in front of her. The sounds and smells weren't as strong in here but they were still lingering as the opening towards the autopsy suite wasn't sealed by a door.

"Oh god, Andy," she murmured, one tear rolling down her cheek, quickly followed by another. "That poor little girl. I'm sorry. I shouldn't be-"

"Don't worry about it," he interrupted her. "Everyone knows children are the worst. I've heard of a lieutenant who was known for being tough as nails and fainted during one of those autopsies. There is no reason to be embarrassed."

Her tears didn't stop and he reached into his pocket for his handkerchief that he handed to her. She wiped the tears off her face but didn't succeed in actually cleaning herself up since they were immediately replaced by new ones. Only now Andy realized how shaken he felt himself. The little body, the innocent face, the pathologist's subdued voice, dully dictating the medical terms describing the horror that lay in front of him. He felt faint, too, and he wished that there had been another chair. Without asking for her permission, he slid his arms around her and pulled her into him. The gesture caused her to sob violently now, her face buried in his shoulder. This was grizzly enough under normal circumstances, but he could tell that her crying wasn't only due to her sympathy for the girl and her horror but that she was releasing a pressure that had been bottled up inside her for far too long. Holding her benefited both of them and he inhaled the scent of her hair that was a much-needed change from the sickening smells wafting in from the autopsy suite.

When she finally pulled back, her eyes were puffy and her breath was labored and for a moment he worried that she was in pain. But then she reached up to cup his cheek and smiled through her tears.

"I'm so glad I have you, Andy."

His heart seemed to jump out of his chest and perform a somersault, making it virtually impossible to deny any longer what he was feeling. He fought himself not to blurt it out or, worse, pull her in to kiss her senseless. They were in a morgue, after all, and he was sure that she would instinctively run if he did either of these things. So he settled for a very small but relevant part of the truth.

"Same here, Sharon."

She didn't actually do anything but her mere presence in his life gave him something to hold on to when he was in danger of turning to the bottle. There were so many things he wanted to forget but when he was around her, they didn't seem as present and threatening anymore. The thought alone of kissing her here of all places showed him how comfortable she made him feel, even if they were surrounded by physical reminders of horror and dread. He held on to her elbow when she slowly rose to her feet and sought her face for a sign that she might not actually be okay to be standing.

"Are you alright?" he asked softly and she nodded slowly, pulling her jacket down; he watched as she wrapped one arm around her belly.

"How can I dream of bringing another child into this horrid world all by myself?" she asked him, her voice turning into half a sob towards the end of her question. He remained silent, not knowing what to say to her but it seemed that the single sentence was all she allowed herself to indulge in right now. "We should go back," she added somewhat apologetically. He knew that trying to hold her back was no use. She was intent on doing her job and she was right in acting like this. So he walked with her into the other room, his hand on her back.

"Sharon," he said, still barely out of earshot of the others. "You're not alone."

They solemnly stood shoulder to shoulder through the rest of the autopsy without another word and later he could feel the tension come off both himself and her when they were outside in the corridor again. She turned towards him, still pale but visibly more composed.

"Look, Andy, I'm really sorry for tearing up like that. It was unprofessional and I shouldn't have told you about my own mess. That was inappropriate and I apologize."

He shook his head in disbelief. Sharon Raydor was something to behold.

"There's no need to," he said. "but I'm all ears if you ever want to talk about your private mess."

The smile she gave him didn't reach her eyes.

* * *

Once again, Andy woke up in an unfamiliar setting. His head hurt and his throat was dry and when he tried to move, he found that his muscles were aching and his stomach was churning. It didn't take him long to recognize the symptoms and a familiar sort of dread settled over him almost instantly. A hangover. And a bad one. He blinked his eyes against the light that he recognized wasn't at all that bright as the day outside seemed to be cloudy and the sound of raindrops pattering against a window could be heard. As much discomfort as it brought him, he managed to get himself into a sitting position so he could finally recognize his surroundings. Sharon's living-room.

How had he gotten here? He tried to remember but couldn't for the life of him. Regrettably, he was quite experienced when it came to waking up without any recollection of the previous night's events so he tried to come up with the last thing he could remember. After the autopsy he had seen Sharon to her car and then had gone back to the office. He remembered sitting at his desk, assaulted by the images from the autopsy that had burned themselves into his memory. He also recalled the nagging feeling, the undeniable craving, the way his feet seemed to have walked towards the elevator and into that bar on their own accord just an hour later. The burning of the whiskey had felt like his personal salvation and, intoxication beginning to set in quickly, he had asked himself fleetingly how he had ever thought that going sober was the right choice. And from then on things became fuzzy. He remembered someone telling him that he'd had enough and he remembered Joel's face, his lips forming words that he couldn't understand. But then there was darkness and he couldn't discern how on earth he had ended up here.

There were footsteps down the hall and Sharon walked in, wearing a light gray cotton dress and thick woolen tights. In her hand she was carrying a steaming mug of coffee which she placed in front of him on the coffee table along with a container of advil. Her silence unsettled him and he shook his head, though regretting the motion immediately.

"Do you remember anything from last night?" she asked and her tone was completely neutral.

"No," he admitted, washing two pills down with the strong coffee. The fact that she was bringing him coffee and painkillers made him hope that he hadn't offended her the previous night. "Why am I here?"

She sat down across from him and smoothed down her skirt over her thighs. "You turned up on my doorstep in the middle of the night accompanied by a guy named Joel who was quite frustrated with you. Apparently you refused to go home and insisted on coming here instead."

Andy covered his face with his hand in embarrassment. What else had he insisted on?

"Did I... um, did I try to...?" he began, unable to actually form the sentence, unwilling to ask the dreadful question.

"Did you come on to me?" she asked, her voice even. "No. You staggered towards the couch and lay down. You can thank me for not feeling any worse. I forced almost a whole bottle of water and some advil down your throat before you fell asleep last night."

Andy didn't want to imagine how he would have felt if she hadn't and looked at her, wild self-hatred flaring up inside him. "I'm so sorry, Sharon." Maybe he had screwed up. Maybe she would just ask him to leave and never bother her again. Maybe this was the end of their friendship.

"Andy," she said softly. "I fully understand why you would try to escape after what we saw yesterday. Believe me, I didn't sleep a wink last night even before you arrived. So I get why you relapsed, I really do. But..." she shook her head. "You can't do that again. As police officers, we see horrible things every day but you can't let them ruin you."

He remained silent as he knew that she was right and he could do nothing but agree. If he did so, however, he worried that it would sound like a false affirmation just to get back into her good graces. Sharon pushed her hair back and leaned forward, looking at him over the rims of her glasses. She seemed tense but not angry with him and he got the impression that she was about to say something meaningful.

"I don't know if you remembered, but you told me that you were invited to your daughter's birthday party."

That one sentence cut through him like a piece of sharp glass that slit open his skin. His daughter's birthday. Today. The three hour drive to San Diego. He could tell that he wasn't fit to drive and he knew that his ex-wife would be looking out and therefore immediately spot the signs that he was drinking. She would never believe him if he told her that it was a momentary lapse and that he hadn't been lying when he'd told her that he was in recovery. He looked up at Sharon whose face showed sympathy and, curiously, pain.

"What time is it?" he croaked.

"Eleven o'clock in the morning," she replied evenly and a wave of relief washed over him. The party wasn't about to start until four. He still had enough time to- "But you are in no state to drive, Andy. You must still be well over the limit."

He shook his head, regretting his lapse so much. Why did it have to happen today of all days? He mentally scolded himself; he wanted to jump up and throw something. Instead he raised his eyes towards Sharon who had cleared her throat gently.

"Tommy is with a woman I know from church. She has lovely twins his age and he can stay all day. We'll have to do our best to clean you up and then I'll drive you to San Diego."

Her offer was the last thing he had expected and he looked up with complete surprise written all over his face. She reached out and squeezed his arm.

"Andy, we're friends, remember?" When he was still too stunned to reply, she smiled sadly. "The most important thing is to see your kids." The look on her face had changed and he knew immediately that the emotion there was more personal than it had been a moment before. He couldn't help thinking back to her phone call with her husband during which she had worn the exact same expression. Suddenly things seemed to click into place. Her having the AA's contact details within reach, her knowing their meetings times by heart and the fact that she seemed to know a little too well how to combat a hangover.

"Your husband is an alcoholic, too, isn't he?" he asked her suddenly, feeling both relieved and crushed when she nodded. There was a moment of heavy silence before she elaborated quietly.

"He's been for a long time now."

"Didn't he turn to AA for help?" Andy asked her carefully, wondering whether she'd snap and refuse to respond to his very personal questions but she seemed almost relieved to be able to talk about it.

"He did. Many times. But it kept getting worse." She was fumbling with the hem of her skirt now, too shy or too weary to look at Andy. "He's in rehab now. A clinic is all that helps at this point."

It hit Andy like a train and he felt his headache flaring up again even worse despite the medication. Maybe she wasn't separated at all. Maybe she was just waiting until her husband returned from rehab so they could continue their married life together. But why didn't she call him more often? Why didn't she visit? Andy didn't know about policy in rehab. Maybe they didn't want their clients to have too much contact with their friends and family? He looked at her stomach. Was that baby a desperate attempt to hold their family together and to keep their marriage from falling apart? But if it was, why did she think she was bringing her daughter into the world all by herself?

Pain began to rage inside his chest like a caged animal. How could he have ever believed that there was even the faintest glimmer of a chance that she might reciprocate his feelings for her? Maybe she was just feeling guilty for not being able to help her husband, to fail to keep him from drinking. Maybe she just wanted to be friends with him to be able to convince herself that her husband's alcoholism wasn't her fault.

She looked at him, her eyes greener when shining with the tears that she blinked back so ferociously that it made Andy wince slightly.

"What happens when he gets out?" Andy heard himself ask and he instantly felt mortified but he had to hear her say it. Sharon sat up a little straighter.

"There are a lot of things that happened due to his drinking," she said carefully, her voice strained. "I kicked him out but I didn't force him to go to rehab. That was his own decision." She swallowed. "I have an infinite number of reasons why I can't trust him anymore, but-" She trailed off.

Undecided, Andy concluded. He thought about the legal papers in the kitchen and about her shortness with him on the phone. There was a chance for him - however small - and that gave him enough energy to sit up and wrap his shaking hand around hers.

"Thank you for not judging me. Thank you for doing this for me. I promise I won't let you down again."

She smiled at him and squeezed his hand back. "You better take a shower and use your princess toothbrush, Andy."


	5. Part Five

**[ Part Five ]**

**A/N**: It's Major Crimes Monday! I'm so excited. Here's a little something to pass the time until the season premiere. Thank you for your lovely reviews and please do keep them coming. I am always very interested in what you guys think and I am always open to suggestions. That said, I hope you enjoy. :)

* * *

Andy hurried through the rain, barely able to avoid the puddles that had formed on the pavement, and then dove into the waiting car, pulling the door shut behind him. For a brief moment he closed his eyes and leaned back against the headrest, listening to the comfortingly regular patter of raindrops against the car roof. Then he turned his head and looked at Sharon who was behind the wheel, looking back at him with an expectant look in her eyes.

"How did it go?"

It was an easy question, one he had expected and tried to prepare for but he was still at a loss, so he just shrugged. Sharon seemed to sense his inner turmoil and started the car again to drive back to Los Angeles. Andy watched the wipers slide across the windshield to combat the masses of water that were falling from the skies. He would have preferred better weather for his daughter's birthday party so they could celebrate outside, but at least his ex-wife Linda's new house had a big living-room where the festivities had been held instead. Entering that house, he had felt like an intruder to a family of strangers even though some of the furniture was familiar and his heart jumped at the sight of his children. Linda had remained wary, which was to be expected, and he was glad that Sharon had worked her magic on him with a greasy breakfast and more of her coffee that he was sure would have been capable of rousing a dead person from the grave. Linda's new boyfriend, John, seemed like a nice guy and he had greeted Andy with a firm and amiable handshake. However, Andy had spotted a glint of something different in his eyes.

Anna's hair had grown out a bit since he had last seen her and when she'd looked up from where she was putting the finishing touches to the table that was practically bending under the weight of cake and hot chocolate, a smile had lit up her face. Her exclamation of the word "Daddy" and the way she had thrown herself into his arms had seemed to solve the knot inside his chest and he had held on to her small body for a bit longer than he had actually meant to. It were the little things, however, that tainted his mood and caused his momentary elation to subside over the course of the party. Anna hugged John enthusiastically as she received her present and it was him she asked to help tie a bunch of balloons to the back of a chair. Each and every one of those things hurt Andy because they seemed to drive home the fact that he was still her father, but a distant one, someone who did not partake in her daily life. She adored him, excited by his visit, and so did his son, but he could feel them slipping away from him slowly, could see that his seldom visits had caused them to lose the easy way of interacting with each other that came from great familiarity.

Although not everything was lost and he was more determined than ever to regain at least some of the closeness he'd shared with them before, he had just realized what his alcoholism had cost him and what it could have cost him if he had continued. Paradoxically, it caused in him the overwhelming urge to have a drink, followed by another until he was safe in blissful oblivion.

He was surprised when he felt Sharon's hand on his, warm and soft fingers wrapping themselves around his.

"Don't," she said without taking her gaze off the road where the taillights of the other cars were dancing around the gray onslaught of water like blurred little red spots of light. "Don't even consider going to a bar to get drunk."

He just stared at her profile. The shadows of the moving windshield wipers were flitting over her pale skin in quick succession and her eyes were a muddy shade of green in the dull lights of the early evening. Even to the backdrop of this cheerless day, she looked beautiful. Not only had she given up her Saturday for him and had agreed to make the long drive back and forth, she also knew instinctively what he was going through. Andy was used to the insufferableness of unrequited physical attraction but he was yet a stranger to the feeling of having connected with a woman on a deeply emotional level. It gave him the urge to not only kiss and touch her, but also to learn about her, to explore the farthest corners of her mind.

Her hand was still wrapped around his and he turned his so his palm faced upwards. The sensation of her palm against his made him feel as if a jolt of electricity was surging through his bones. He wrapped his fingers around hers and his fingertips brushed her knuckles in a caress.

"Traffic's okay. We should be home at about half past ten," Sharon said. "How do you feel about renting a movie and having some dinner at my place?"

He was too exhausted to be charming or funny so he just agreed without one of his usual quips about this sounding like a date and they drove on in silence until just listening to the swooshing of the tires on the wet asphalt became unbearable to him.

"My kids seem to get on well without me," he finally confessed. "I'm not sure whether they miss me as much as I do them."

He looked down where he could draw comfort from the sight of their joined hands.

"I'm sure they do," Sharon said and it sounded like a typical, automated response only until she continued. "Tommy misses Jack a lot. It helps him to speak to him on the phone."

She let go of his hand to be able to hold the wheel steady with both hands through a particularly nasty onslaught of rain and he began to miss their physical contact immediately.

"Does it help you, too?" Andy asked.

Sharon smiled sadly without taking her eyes off the road. "I hardly ever talk to him. I just make the arrangements with the staff and hand the phone over to Tommy."

"Because it's too painful?" Andy asked, aware of the fact that this was one reason why he didn't call his children very often. Hearing their voices while not being able to see and hug them made him feel even worse.

"I don't know what to say to him," Sharon admitted quietly after a prolonged pause. Andy got it. Silences were the worst because they seemed like a palpable sign of the loss of intimacy between two people. "Whenever I actually talk to him, I tell him about Tommy and about the baby and that's it."

Once again Andy wondered what exactly had driven them apart. She had hinted upon other things than just her husband's addiction and he was sure that there had been one event in particular that had led her to leave him. She had told him before that her pregnancy had not been an accident and he figured that if she had been pondering the idea of leaving her husband for a long time, she would have been more careful if she had had sex with him at all.

"Did you kick him out before or after you learned about the pregnancy?"

"After." Her fingers drummed on the wheel. "This rain is terrible. I can hardly see where I'm going."

He was a little surprised by the sudden change of topic but if she didn't want to talk about it, he wouldn't pressure her.

"What kind of movie would you like to watch later?" he asked instead, back on safe territory, he hoped.

"Not a horror movie, that's for sure," Sharon answered and he wholeheartedly agreed. The memories of the autopsy were still fresh in their minds and they didn't need any more images to fuel their nightmares.

* * *

Sharon pulled her cardigan around her upper body and shivered as she carefully descended the stairs. "I didn't sign up for this when I moved to the west coast," she complained and reached for the blanket she kept on the couch. Andy, who had been staring out into the dripping garden, turned his head to look at her in her comfortable clothes, one hand rubbing her belly. He popped the video tape into the player and settled back down next to her where her hand landed on his thigh without either of them acknowledging it. At first it felt just as comforting as it was probably meant to be, but then Andy began to realize how close her fingers were to his groin. He looked at her from the corner of his eye while hers were glued to the screen, awake and interested behind her glasses. He'd been attracted to her for a while now, had probably always been, but he could only work up the strength to admit it to himself now.

He found it a little strange to think that he'd never seen her _not _pregnant and in terms of physical desirability it made no difference to him. He found it intriguing to see the ambiguity of her: her unwavering self-confidence and hands-on mentality on the one hand, and her careful movements and gentle caresses of her stomach on the other. She was an enigma and he felt drawn to her with such inevitableness that he felt completely helpless in the face of it all. He felt himself longing to reach over and pull her flush against his body. To kiss her and explore her every inch of her by touch. Feel the firm muscles of her arms and legs, the softness of her breasts and the curve of her belly. He wondered whether she was attracted to him, too, but he couldn't tell at all. She did care about him a great deal, Andy knew that, but he had yet to catch a glimmer of physical desire in her eyes.

He was snapped out of his thoughts by her laugh and immediately smiled at her when he saw the tears of amusement in her eyes.

"I can't believe I've never seen this movie!" Sharon gasped.

"I can't believe it either."

"It's so funny. I thought it was mainly blasphemous, but it is really funny!"

"Excuse me. Are you the Judean People's Front?" Andy asked in a fake British accent, making Sharon laugh even harder, convincing him that despite her initial skepticism, Life of Brian had been the right choice to watch tonight.

"Careful, woman, you'll put yourself in labor," he told her, still unable to break her giggling fit. He'd never seen her laugh like that and it was contagious. Only half an hour into the movie they lost it and had to freeze the tape in order to calm down so they could hear what was being said. Sharon wiped a tear from her eye and attempted to get to her feet but her body was shaken by another jolt of uncontrollable laughter so she collapsed back on to the couch and hid her face in Andy's shoulder. It took them a moment to actually stop laughing and the big smile that was still gracing her features gave her face a completely different look that he was fascinated by.

"This feels good," she stated, her voice still quivering lightly.

"Having a good laugh? Yeah. I think so, too." He slipped his arm around her shoulder and was about to thank her again for saving him today, but she began to talk before he could.

"No. I mean this. Cuddling on the couch with you," she said softly. "It feels good to be close to someone. To be able to let go once in a while."

She lifted her head from his shoulder and smiled up at him, her expression guarded again, the laughter forgotten. He held her gaze although he found it a little too intense for comfort and he was worried that he would give himself away in response to it.

"I like this, too," he said, his voice suddenly hoarse. Andy moved his head, just a tiny bit, just to see whether the look in her eyes would change or whether she'd withdraw but she didn't. Sharon wet her lips and Andy felt as if his heart was about to jump out of his chest. His hand came up as if on its own accord and he cupped her cheek, running his thumb across the soft skin.

"I'm glad I have you," he said.

"Me too."

Andy often kissed women in bars. Just for the thrill of it, for the sense of accomplishment when they gave in, let themselves be wooed by his advances and allowed his tongue to enter their mouths. Most of the time, he wasn't even particularly interested in them. Sometimes he took them home, mostly he didn't because he was too drunk to do anything with them, anyway. It was different with Sharon. He was hesitating. Their friendship was a safe haven for both of them and a kiss might ruin everything. And yet he longed to press his lips to hers and his fingertips were tingling in expectation. Did she want this as much as he did? Her eyes didn't give her away, her look was tender but everything else was hidden safely behind the veil that always seemed to be obscuring her eyes, hiding her true feelings. He couldn't take a chance. Not with her. If she kissed him, it was more than fine with him but he wouldn't risk losing her because of one of his stupid spur of the moment decisions. Sharon leaned in and he could feel her warm breath on his lips briefly, then she pressed hers to his for the shortest of moments before she pulled back. It was a sweet, innocent kiss that reminded him of that day back in Junior High when one of the pretty girls that always stood giggling in groups had marched up to him and had pressed a kiss to his lips to his before she'd turned on her heel to run back to her girlfriends. He had pretended to find it gross and had wiped his mouth with his sleeve just to make a point, but his insides had been fluttering with joy and excitement just like they were now.

"I'll go and get us some chocolate now," she said and he nodded numbly, still reeling from the kiss and the many questions it raised. Was this the promise of something more? Or was it a sign of friendship and support? A warning even, that this was all he would ever get from her?

Sharon returned with an assortment of candy bars and put them down on the coffee table in front of Andy. He watched her help herself to one of them and devour it with obvious pleasure. It made him think back to the afternoon he had spent at her house, helping her get settled, and all the observations he had made that day. It had happened less than two months ago and yet they were so much closer now. He decided to try and make conversation as if nothing had happened, steering his thoughts away from the turmoil inside him. He would later examine the evidence and wonder what it meant. For now he was determined to enjoy her company.

"So you're still craving chocolate?" he asked her when she had almost finished the bar. She looked up and smiled.

"Unfortunately, yes. All that sugar will keep her up all night, but I can't help it."

Andy's eyes flitted towards the clock on her desk and he was shocked to find that it was already past midnight.

"Are you tired, Sharon?" he asked her urgently. "You're not staying up just because of me, are you?"

She finally allowed herself the yawn he hadn't previously noticed she was stifling. "That's what friends are for, Andy." She stretched like a cat and snuggled back into his shoulder.

"You can stay if you want. You must be exhausted, too, after the day you've had on so little sleep."

"How about we finish the movie tomorrow morning?" he asked her, feeling her weight grow heavier on his shoulder as she relaxed into sleepiness.

"Right after church," she murmured, an amused smile playing at her lips.

"Do you go to church every Sunday?" Somehow he hadn't expected her to be that religious.

"Mostly out of habit, yes." She lifted her head and rubbed her eyes. "You're right. I'm far too tired to finish the movie tonight. Are you coming?"

Andy, who had been fully convinced that he would spend another night on her couch, looked at her with surprise which made her grin. She didn't say anything, though, so he followed her upstairs in silence. This time he stripped down to his t-shirt and boxers, purposefully turning away while she changed into her pajamas. The bed was barely wide enough to provide enough space for both of them, but he found a way to lie on his side without taking up too much of the mattress. They wished each other a good night and she switched off the light, turning on to her side with her back turned at him.

There was a moment of silence and he felt exhaustion settling over him like a heavy blanket while his mind was turning foggy with impending sleep. Her low voice startled him out of his haze and at first he believed it to be part of a dream.

"Would you mind holding me again?"

Andy forbade himself to think about it and tried to fight down any emotional or physical reaction that might present itself at her request. Instead he closed what little distance remained between them and wrapped his arms around her, nestling his cheek into her neck.

"Better?" he rasped into her ear, trying to find a non-compromising spot to rest his hands.

"Hmm, much. Goodnight, Andy."

"Goodnight, Sharon."


	6. Part Six

**[ Part Six ]**

**A/N**: A big thank you to MunchkinLovesYou and her friends for their input. I wasn't able to use all of it in this chapter, but we'll see. :-)

Andy hurried up the short driveway with long strides, eager to leave the chilly Saturday afternoon behind him and reach the refuge that Sharon's home still was to him. Relieved to finally have arrived at his destination, he rang the doorbell and waited. Just a few seconds later, Tommy's face appeared in the small crack in the front door once again and he squinted up at Andy with an unmistakable look of relief lighting up his eyes.

"Hello, Andy!" he said and pulled the door wide open, having to use all his strength to do so as his small body was no match for the heavy front door. Andy looked down at the child and smiled when he discovered a bright blue toy car in his hand. His eyes restless, he seemed oddly distraught and the fact that Sharon had allowed him to open the door by himself was unusual, too - even though she was expecting Andy.

"Where is your Mommy?" he asked with deliberate cheer and Tommy just pointed at the doorway to the living-room before he dropped down on to the wooden floor to move his car along the knotholes with great concentration. Andy passed him and found Sharon on the couch, a blanket spread over her. She looked drowsy and tired, one arm draped over her stomach and the back of her other hand resting against her forehead. She smiled weakly when he entered and stretched out her hand to squeeze his.

"Hey," she said.

"Hey yourself. Are you okay?" Andy lifted her legs and sat down on the couch, pulling her feet into his lap. She adjusted herself to give him more space but didn't pull back; instead she tilted her head back and hummed with pleasure when he began to massage her calves and ankles both of which were slightly swollen.

"I am exhausted," she admitted. "Tommy needed new clothes so I spent all morning shopping with him in town. He was cranky, so I had to basically drag him around and now my whole body aches." Her next hum turned into a delighted moan when he worked his way up her legs, methodically rubbing her aching muscles to get them to relax. For a moment, neither of them spoke and the only sound that could be heard was Tommy's voice, imitating engine noises as he ran his little car across the room and towards the couch. Andy modestly stopped his ministrations at her knees and returned to her feet, making Sharon purr like a cat.

"That's amazing, Andy," she murmured, eyes closed and biting her lip with visible delight. "You can't imagine how good it feels."

He silently continued massaging her feet while she sat up and turned towards Tommy who had abandoned his toy and was looking up at her with a critical expression. Andy realized now that what he had seen in the little boy's eyes upon his arrival was concern for his mother.

"Mommy, are you sick?" he inquired in a small voice.

"No, honey, I'm fine," she assured him, gently running her fingers through his hair. "Just a little tired from all the shopping we did today."

The boy's eyes lit up as he seemed to remember that they had a guest who had not yet seen his new set of clothes and so he proudly puffed his chest out for Andy's inspection.

"Andy, look at my t-shirt! It's got Mickey and Donald on it!" Tommy pulled at the garment and bounced up and down happily.

"That's a pretty cool shirt, indeed," Andy replied, endeared by his innocent enthusiasm.

"I'll buy you one, too, if you promise me to wear it to work," Sharon quipped, smiling at her son's excitement and caressing his shoulder lightly.

"I'll think about it," Andy grinned back, stroking the soles of her feet which made her giggle slightly. Gently pulling her feet back, Sharon sat up fully to look at the clock on her desk.

"My, it's nearly six already."

"Mommy said we're having fish fingers and mashed potatoes for dinner!" Tommy offered. "Do you want some, too, Andy?" He felt awash with sudden and unexpected happiness when he realized that somehow he had wound his way into the small boy's heart. He was no longer a stranger or just a visitor, but someone Tommy felt comfortable including into his daily routine with his mother. He had actually been about to offer his services to cook them a real meal, but faced with the child's excitement, he decided to settle for whatever he was offered. He shrugged and looked at Sharon who gave him an encouraging smile.

"How about we take care of dinner?" he asked Tommy. "I'll show you how to make fish fingers."

Tommy's eyes widened at the prospect. "Really?"

"Absolutely," Andy replied, causing Sharon to give a light chuckle. Tommy ran ahead towards the kitchen where the banging of cabinet doors could be heard a second later. Sharon cringed but her smile didn't falter.

"That is very sweet of you, Andy. He adores you, you know."

Funny, Andy thought. In this case he was the new father figure the child was taking to while the same thing was happening with his own children in San Diego. Why did life have to be so complicated? Why did it throw so many obstacles in his way just to give him a gift like Sharon's and Tommy's friendship all of a sudden?

"Just relax for a bit, Sharon. We'll call you as soon as dinner is ready." He reached out and pulled her a little closer to be able to press his lips against her forehead. The gesture came to him so naturally that he didn't even think about it before he leaned in. Instead of pulling back she looked up at him and smiled, wrapping her fingers around his free hand.

"Can you stay here again tonight?" she asked quietly and although she was clearly trying to hide it, he could see a longing expression in her eyes. The way she had made it caused him just as much happiness as the request itself and so he didn't get up right away but lingered for a moment, looking into her eyes. She blinked and looked away, alerting him to the fact that his gaze might have been a little too intense, but somehow he was unable to take his eyes off her. His free hand was still resting against the back of her neck while the other was now tightly clasped around hers and all it would have taken was leaning into her very slightly to initiate a kiss. She was quiet but looked up at him and the longing in her eyes returned, even more fiercely. With a start he knew that she wanted him to kiss her with the sort of absolute certainty that one could not explain. She wasn't making a move to draw him closer, but he could see the slight flush in her cheeks while her chest was rising and falling a little more quickly than before. Her pulse was hammering in her wrist under his thumb - or was it his own? - and he stroked the delicate skin there lightly as if to assure her that she had nothing to be afraid of. He leaned in slightly, waiting for her to pull away but she didn't. Their faces only inches from each other, he watched her close her eyes and part her lips. He ran his hand up and down her back in a soothing motion and leaned in to brush his lips against hers very lightly, to give her a chance to withdraw if she decided that she didn't want this after all. He felt her hand come up and firmly grab the back of his neck, her fingers slipping up to caress the skin just below his hairline.

He wasn't sure whether the loud crashing sound from the kitchen was a blessing or a curse but she let go of him, startled.

"Mommy!" came a frantic voice from the kitchen, quivering to signal impending tears, followed by an even more urgent "Mommy!". She slipped from his half-embrace on the couch without looking at Andy and hurried into the kitchen to find Tommy standing in front of a broken dish, looking sheepish. Already, tears were rolling down his cheeks, his eyes large and horrified. Andy was too shaken to find any amusement in the fact that children seemed to think that breaking something was as bad as it ever got. Maybe it was the fact that something whole and useful was suddenly reduced to scattered pieces that made them realize that nothing was indestructible, he mused, but then silently admonished himself. The kid was probably just shocked by the loud noise, not pondering his own mortality.

"Oh, honey," Sharon sighed. "Don't touch the pieces. I don't want you to hurt yourself." She ruffled his hair and pulled him into her side to comfort him. "You have to be more careful next time, okay? But it's just a plate."

"I'm sorry, Mommy," Tommy said in a small voice and Andy couldn't help but find his guilt somewhat appropriate. Why did he have to shatter a plate at this precise moment? Had he done it on purpose? But no, there was no way he could have seen what was about to happen. He bent down and carefully picked up most of the pieces, then gestured for Sharon to step back.

"I'll take care of it," he told her. "this would just wreck more havoc on your poor back."

"Thanks, Andy." Sharon's smile was genuine and affectionate but he couldn't tell how exactly she was feeling about their near-kiss. Only later after dinner, when she'd read Tommy a story and had tucked him into bed, he dared to think about what had happened, what had almost happened. He looked up at her when he walked into the living-room, a veiled look in her eyes. He wanted to suggest a movie or offer to leave but somehow he couldn't say a thing to her. She seemed to sense his indecisiveness and sat down next to him, picking up his hand to run her fingertips across his knuckles. For a moment they remained in silence, not looking at each other, then she sat up straighter. Andy dreaded the lecture he was sure he was about to receive and averted his eyes, bracing himself for the vocal equivalent of a cold shower. Instead he felt her hand cup his cheek and then her lips were on his without as much as a warning. It was nothing like the last kiss she'd given him. Not brief and innocent, but lingering and deep and encouraging. As he felt her tongue dance around his and the pressure of her lips against his own, he couldn't stifle his content groan, almost a grunt as it was caused by surprise as much as arousal. He pulled her against him, his hands roaming her shoulders and arms and he had to restrain himself from squeezing her too hard for fear that she would pull away again. He wouldn't have been able to say how long their kiss lasted. Maybe a minute, maybe five, but he was stunned and devastated to see tears in her eyes when she pulled back.

"Sharon, I'm sorry-" he began in an attempt to somehow make this go away.

"Don't be," she said, bringing up her hand to wipe a tear from her eye while the other was firmly pressed against her stomach. "I wanted this just as much as you did."

"But?" he inquired softly, conscious of her need for physical space.

"I don't know about this," she admitted quietly. "We were such unlikely allies and now we're friends and I just don't know why you-" She cleared her throat. "Andy, I have a husband and I am carrying his child..." For a moment she pressed her lips together then shook her head again. "How could you want this?"

He weighed his head slowly then reached out and entwined his fingers with hers. "I didn't plan on falling in love with you, Sharon, believe me. It just happened." It was out before he had a chance to fully grasp what he was saying. She squeezed his hand a little harder, her eyes clouding over and fresh tears welling up the cause of which he could not fathom. Was she sad? Or happy? Touched? Or overwhelmed? He knew that every word he was about to say had the potential to either make this better or turn it into a complete debacle. It was like a minefield; he had no idea whether he would take a wrong step or not, whether things would blow up in his face any minute.

"I don't know what I'm doing, Sharon. I don't even know what I want exactly. Being around you, being around Tommy feels right to me and kissing you..." He tried a small grin and was relieved to find the ghost of its echo on her features. He leaned in and gently brushed his lips against hers again. "Kissing you feels right as well. Why can't we just go with it and see what happens?"

She shook her head, her hands clawing at the fabric of her dress nervously. It took her a while until she looked back at him and he could see desperate tears shining in hers eyes which held a surprisingly stubborn expression.

"I don't know," she finally said, her voice straining, almost at breaking point. He could sense that she had a hard time controlling her emotions now and some part of him hoped that she would just give up and let them reign, if only for a moment. "I really, really don't know. I- you mean a lot to me, Andy, but Jack and I separated only a few months ago and I still-" She looked defeated now and sounded even more so. "He's the father of my children, Andy."

As much as he wanted to, Andy was unable to control his temper or the volume of his own voice. "And I am the father of mine! What good has it ever done me, Sharon?"

There was a moment of silence during which they stared at each other like two animals on the prowl, both ready to lash out at the slightest of misstep. The air of vulnerability around Sharon had vanished and had given way to the impression of an impenetrable armor around her, the appearance of which frustrated Andy to no end. He opened his palms and sighed, rolling his eyes towards the ceiling to convey not annoyance but hurt.

"How am I supposed to be able to understand you when I don't know anything about your marriage to Jackson?" he said rather softly, searching her eyes for a glimmer of understanding or even affection, but the green orbs remained neutral and distant. She adjusted her position on the couch next to him, pulling at her sleeves to get them to cover her hands. The gesture was the only thing that betrayed her unease as her voice was as steely as ever.

"I am not going to sit here and whine to you about what went wrong in my marriage."

Andy grimaced. This conversation was definitely headed towards disaster and he had no idea how to change its inevitable direction.

"I am not asking you to." He risked touching her arm and lightly pressed down his fingers as if to assure her of his physical presence, to remind her that she was facing him and not the demons that were residing inside her mind. "I just-"

He stopped it there as he could think of nothing to say that wouldn't have been too much too soon. There was no way to put his feelings into words that didn't sound tacky or pathetic. He would just have to wait it out. She turned slowly, looking down at the hand on her arm. He realized that his grip was too hard, that he had spoken with too much vigor. He sounded and acted aggressive although he didn't mean to or even felt. His temper had always been a problem. Although he wasn't exactly violent, he was easily provoked, kept blowing fuses. It was a side to him that he had never displayed towards Sharon but that he was sure she knew pretty well from reading his file. She didn't look scared, though, relieved even, as if she had finally discovered what everyone else was seeing.

"I had more than just one reason to end things with Jack," she said very quietly. "None of which I would like to discuss right now."

"I'm your friend, Sharon. Maybe talking about it would make things easier for you."

She gave a humorless laugh. "Maybe. But it's just not right and, frankly, it is not fair. To either of you."

He wasn't sure what exactly she meant by that, but he couldn't find the words to ask her, didn't dare, even, faced with the look of steady resolve in her eyes.

"Maybe you should go home now," she said very softly and leaned in at the same time to place a chaste kiss to the corner of his mouth as if to soften the blow.

"I most probably should."

Deep down, he understood what she was trying to do and why she was doing it, but a part of him that was lurking just below the surface didn't want to accept her rejection, wanted to know where the hell they'd gone wrong and whether there was a chance for things to continue into the more promising direction.

"Night." His voice was gruff and he made no serious attempt to conceal his anger as he stalked towards the door and threw it shut behind him.

* * *

The funeral was a big, but quiet affair as many solemn faces looked on in silence, watching the impossibly small casket being lowered into the ground. Andy stood next to Sharon and tried in vain to ban the gruesome images from the little girl's autopsy from his mind. He didn't want to remember her chest gaping wide open or her organs being sliced and examined. The only time he'd seen her alive had been when he'd arrived at the scene of her attack and had crouched down next to her, trying to calm her down until the ambulance arrived. He didn't want to remember her that way either and he found himself hoping that the few years she'd had had been happy ones. His hand brushed Sharon's and he felt her fingers lightly wrap themselves around his, almost as if they'd just been caught there without either of them being in control of it. Her hand was cold and he rubbed her fingers lightly with his fingertips to warm her up, knowing that the gesture was well disguised from prying eyes in the folds of their coats. It was a cool, cloudy day with occasional onslaughts of rain and the gloomy light fit the occasion well. They hadn't seen each other since his heated exit from her home the previous weekend and he was glad that she didn't seem to be angry with him.

Andy couldn't help thinking of his own daughter when the mother began to sob uncontrollably at the priest's quietly spoken funeral eulogy. He'd called his children twice that week and had arranged to visit again soon, hoping to see them on a weekly basis from now on, if possible. They turned away when the mourners walked past the grave and paid their respects to the child's parents. As police officers, they tried to stay in the background, not to remind the family again of the violent nature of their beloved's death. Sharon and Andy walked to the parking lot side by side, both deeply in thought.

"You okay?" he asked her softly when they reached her car.

She nodded, if hesitantly. "You?"

"I guess," he replied then leaned in to give her a firm hug as he had taken up doing as a greeting or farewell. "See you for lunch tomorrow?"

"See you then." She squeezed his hand and climbed into her car. Andy watched her drive off and was startled out of his brooding thoughts by the clearing of someone's throat next to him.

"Sharon Raydor, eh? Guess you had your reasons for your heroics back at the cafeteria." It was Steven Hanks, his squad mate, blue eyes sparkling mischievously, but Andy wasn't the constant drunk he'd been a few months ago so the underlying wariness did not escape him. He buried his hands deeply in the pocket of his coat against the chill and began to walk towards his car, very much feeling the presence of his fellow officer beside him. Steven had the physics of a stereotype high school quarterback from a cheesy teen-movie along with constantly disheveled blond hair and an attractive face. His steps were light and sure and his posture relaxed with every step they took away from the horror and grief behind them.

"Is she your girlfriend now?"

He'd known that he would ask, that someone was bound to ask sooner or later. Steven was not a gossip and Andy was almost sure that, though they weren't especially close, the other man was looking out for him. But what was he to tell him? That he was in love with her and she had rejected him? That he had no idea where they were heading?

"No, she's just a friend."

Steven was square and muscular, but Andy was taller than him so that he had to look up slightly to catch his gaze. He looked anything but convinced and Andy didn't begrudge him that. He wouldn't have believed it either. The lie was just too obvious in his deliberately light tone of voice.

"Really?" The other man said evenly. "That's not what it looked like."

The gravel was crunching beneath their feet and the leaves around them were rustling in the merciless wind but Andy didn't respond. He wasn't ready yet to discuss what was happening between them, much less what wasn't. He hadn't expected their mutual affection to be that obvious to outsiders. On the other hand, he was very conscious of how much they touched each other. It were innocent, affectionate touches, but every time their skin came into contact, Andy felt hot and cold in quick succession. He liked holding her and he longed for her in his arms every lonely, sober night that he had to spend in his own bed, mostly sleepless. Their nights together were calm and actually spent sleeping. As much as he tried to stay awake after she'd drifted off to sleep to be able to inhale the scent of her hair and gently caress her arm or side, he never lasted long. Somehow the insomnia that usually plagued him disappeared whenever he spent the night with her and he woke up the following morning, feeling rested and energized. But their relationship didn't seem to fit into any category. They were more than friends but less than lovers and she still kept many secrets although she accomodated him when it came to physical closeness.

"I think she likes you. I've never seen her like that with anyone," Steven said carefully, his tone genuine and void of any trace of judgement.

Andy frowned, irritated. "Of course she likes me. We're friends. And why are you talking like you know her?"

"Because I used to." Steven shrugged. "We were at the academy together."

Andy felt electrified by the mixture of jealousy and intrigue that surged through him at this revelation. "Really?"

Steven shrugged. "Yes. She's some kind of rich girl but she doesn't talk about it. We only learned of it when her parents attended the graduation ceremony. And she was engaged at the time. Big guy. Really good-looking. She was kind of careful around people but when she brought him along to bar nights, she really loosened up because he had this way with people."

Andy furrowed his brow, trying to look not too interested while his blood was boiling with curiosity and a sudden surge of jealousy. Steven didn't need any encouragement to go on so Andy just stayed quiet and listened, ready to soak up any information he could possibly gather from this unexpected source.

"He was a lawyer and he was crazy about her. Always showed up with flowers and swept her off her feet. We used to joke about how our cautious little Sharon came apart at the seams around him. I really liked her, though. We kept in touch for a while. Too bad she's in FID now."

Andy still didn't answer. Not too long ago, he'd seen the world in exactly the same way that Steven did: Being friends with someone from FID was out of the question because they were enemies to every normal officer throughout the LAPD. Now he felt foolish and a grain of anger was developing when he heard his squad mate talk like that without even questioning the belief behind his words. Andy hunched his shoulders against the cool wind and watched as the other man checked his wrist watch.

"She's pregnant again," Steven stated then, surprising Andy.

"Yes. Quite obviously so," he joked tiredly but Steven didn't even crack a smile.

"I didn't think she would have another baby after what happened the last time." Steven shook his head. "Poor Jack nearly lost his mind over it. I've never seen him that drunk."

So far Andy had responded to all of his revelations with mere grunts or little hums to prevent his ignorance from becoming too obvious. Being Sharon's friend, he felt ashamed of not being in on the secrets, of knowing so little about her past. This, however, made alarm bells go off inside his head so he was unable to hold back.

"What do you mean the last time?" He was instantly embarrassed due to the urgency in his voice and the sudden volume to which it had risen. "What happened?" he added a little more quietly. Fortunately, Steven didn't insist on keeping it to himself now that he had realized that Sharon hadn't told Andy about it. In retrospect Andy would think that maybe it had been a warning, or a little sign of disapproval towards Sharon.

"There were complications when she gave birth to her son. She lost a lot of blood and it was touch-and-go for a while; she almost died, you know. Jack completely freaked out, the poor guy. Made her swear to not have another one. That's probably water under the bridge now." He briefly touched Andy's shoulder. "Look, I'm sorry, I've got to run. See you at work tomorrow!"

He was left behind with a lump in his throat and a strong sense of foreboding.


	7. Part Seven

**[ Part Seven ]**

**A/N**: Warning for an M-rated moment! This chapter is slightly shorter than usual, but it does answer some questions. Next one will be longer, I promise. Oh, and please keep those reviews coming. I so love reading your thoughts about this. :-)

Andy was walking slowly so Sharon could keep up comfortably. Her arm was linked through his and her other hand held on to his in a gentle but firm grip as they made their way along the beach. It was a rather cool and windy day, but after weeks of rain, which wasn't typical of LA even in the winter months, at least the sky was finally a pale blue again and a hint of sunshine made the crashing waves sparkle lazily. She had initially protested when he'd suggested they take the afternoon off after their lunch, but she had eventually mentioned her several hours of overtime that allowed for her to leave early from time to time without having to feel guilty about it. He knew she needed a little time to relax and take her mind off the funeral the previous day, so he took her to the beach where they had been walking mostly in silence for the past half hour, occasionally pointing a seagull or something else of interest out to each other. Now he could feel her gradually slow down next to him, forcing him to match his speed to hers. He finally stopped and pretended to look over the ocean to allow her to catch her breath. She let go of his arm and brought her hands to her belly, gently following it's more pronounced curve before she leaned her head against Andy's shoulder. In terms of affectionate gestures, he was surprised to find, their kiss had not changed a thing between them and he was both relieved and excited at the discovery.

"I'm tired," she said and closed her eyes when he brought his hand up to stroke her hair and neck.

"There's a beach bar right up there." Andy pointed at a small cafe that was overlooking the ocean from where it was mounted on a pile structure. He placed his hand in the small of her back and only pulled it back when he slid onto a padded bench next to her a few minutes later where they had found a rather secluded spot in the half-empty room. They ordered hot chocolate for her and a cup of coffee for him and as soon as the waitress was gone, Sharon rested her head against his shoulder again, her eyes falling shut almost immediately.

"Are you going to fall asleep on me now?" he asked her, amused by her fatigue, while he slid his arm around her to allow her to rest more comfortably against him.

"I just have to close my eyes for a minute," she murmured sleepily and so he studied the menu instead of keeping her awake much longer. He found that they were serving a particularly nice brand of Californian chardonnay here and he remembered its taste and warmth in his throat as well as the beauty of the chilled glass and the delicate, golden liquid. The longing became almost unbearable and not even the bitterness of his newly served coffee could erase the memory of the taste. Sharon stirred and reached out to sip her hot chocolate, catching his gaze.

"Feel like a glass of wine?" she asked sympathetically, her free hand lightly caressing his arm.

He shrugged, feeling defensive. "Sometimes I think one wouldn't hurt. I could have just that one and then stop."

She ran her thumb across her upper lip to rub away a chocolate stain. "Maybe you'd manage to stop the first time. Maybe not. But sooner or later it would escalate again."

"You never stop being an alcoholic," he nodded unhappily. "Yeah, I know. But maybe... one day..."

"Not now, though," she said softly but with finality, closing the menu for him and he felt anger at her flaring up for the shortest of moments as the gesture felt slightly patronizing. Looking up into her face, however, he softened instantly when he saw the worried expression there.

"I know it's hard. I can even relate a little." She smiled tentatively. "I would love a glass of chardonnay right now, too, but I can't either."

"But it's harder when you theoretically could." He wasn't ready to let his irritation go just yet as it provided something to hold on to rather than the intense craving for alcohol. "You can't drink because of the baby. I just can't."

"Some people say an occasional glass doesn't hurt," she said pensively. "but I never had even a single sip during either of my pregnancies. I can't bring myself to do anything that could even potentially harm my baby."

He looked down at the outline of her stomach that was visible under the cashmere sweater she was wearing and couldn't help but think about what Steven had said. Without having to ask for her consent, he reached out and placed his hand on her swollen belly, pressing down lightly in anticipation of a reaction. She wrapped her hand around his and moved it slightly to the left where he felt a firm kick.

"Hello, little one," he said. "I think she likes me."

Sharon gave a mock-snort. "How can you tell? For all you know, she wants to kick you."

"It's just a hunch. I think she wants to say hello."

She turned her head slightly to smile up at him, making butterflies come alive in Andy's stomach. He could feel the warmth radiating off her body even through the fabric of the sweater and he wanted nothing more than to kiss her. Closing in very slightly, he pressed his lips to hers while he continued to caress her stomach with his thumb. She didn't withdraw from the kiss but opened her lips instead to allow him to deepen it. Kissing her and responding gently to her baby's movements at the same time seemed meaningful on a certain level and he hoped that she would understand that he didn't mind her pregnancy anymore. Her children were part of her and her unconditional love for them was one of the things he liked so much about her. Their kiss became slower and lighter until their lips were merely brushing against each other.

"She's kicking up a storm, Andy. I think she recognizes your voice."

He grinned. "Then she likes me for sure; I say nothing but nice things to her Mommy."

For a moment they listened to the crashing of the waves that was audible through the open bay windows then he pulled her closer, resting his cheek against her hair. He could have sat like that with her all day, but something was nagging at him and this moment was as good as any to get it off his chest, even if he ruined the relaxed atmosphere between them.

"Can I ask you something?" He tried for an even, sure tone of voice but succeeded only in part. Feeling her stiffen in response to his question, he gently ran his hand down her back.

"Yes?" It sounded almost a little menacing, as if to warn him not to overstep his boundaries. Unfortunately, he wasn't so sure where exactly those lines were drawn these days and he was more than willing to take a risk.

"You know Steven Hanks?"

"Yes, we attended the Academy together. He's in Robbery/Homicide, too, isn't he?" She looked a little wary but her thumb was still caressing the back of his hand lightly where it was resting comfortably against her stomach.

"He is. Look, don't be mad at him. I think he thought I knew when he told me about what happened when Tommy was born."

A dark shadow fell over her face and she raised her chin, looking to the left, at a point over his shoulder. Tears were gathering in the corners of her eyes and she reached up to pinch the bridge of her nose and squeeze her eyes shut for a moment. Andy noticed the rare absence of her glasses for the first time. He reached up and gently ran the back of his hand over her cheek but she winced in response to his gentle touch.

"Look, I didn't mean to pry, but I am worried."

"Of course you are." She sounded more bitter than he had expected and he was beginning to regret bringing it up in the first place, when she picked up her cup and took another sip, her hands trembling visibly. "Look, all I know is that you were bleeding and that it almost killed you. That you and your husband weren't planning on having any more children-"

She cut him off. "It was Jack. Jack didn't want any more children." Her answer was spoken rapidly and there was an edge to her voice that he had never heard before. "He was worried about me," she added more softly.

"But you did?" he asked softly, still hoping that she would open up. More tears were welling up in her yes and she nodded, unable to speak for a moment. Her voice was firm when she finally spoke again.

"I have a hereditary condition. It isn't life-threatening or particularly dangerous under normal circumstances; it just means that I am prone to bleeding more than other people do which poses a risk when it comes to childbirth. My doctors weren't aware of it during my first pregnancy, so they didn't take any precautions when I went into labor." She shook her head. "It's always a risk, but there really is no medical reason not to have another baby now that I've been diagnosed."

Relief swept over Andy at her words and he could have stopped there, but his curiosity won out eventually.

"But Jack didn't want you to?"

She grimaced. "He was traumatized, Andy. Didn't want to risk losing me."

"Did he change his mind?" Andy asked cautiously.

She pressed her lips together and shook her head. "I've been trying to convince him but he refused completely. But then he came home slightly drunk one night and I, well, I am not on the pill because it gives me horrible migraines. I told him that we needed to-, well," She coughed, clearly uncomfortable with talking about it. "...take precautions. I think he didn't really worry about it, though, because it took us a long time to conceive Tommy, but god knows why, he got me pregnant that night."

"One time's enough. Guys tend to forget about it," Andy said, fleetingly thinking back to his friend Joe who had gotten his high school girlfriend pregnant due to precisely the same sentiment.

"Exactly." Her voice sounded firmer now and he thought that maybe she was a little bit relieved, now that she had finally told him. Somehow he didn't think that she had anyone to talk to about it and for the first time he wondered about her current relationship with her parents. "I found out pretty soon and he was mortified. He started apologizing over and over and when I told him that I was actually very happy, he pretended to be good with it for a while." Andy could see from the way her face contorted slightly that the memory was painful and he watched her hand tighten around her cup as she continued. "I was about seven weeks pregnant when he began to try and talk me into an abortion, citing the risks for my health that are associated with giving birth, but I refused." She cleared her throat. "As you can imagine, that put quite the strain on to our relationship."

Andy thought about what he'd heard about Jack Raydor so far and although he wasn't too fond of the man, his behavior was hard to reconcile with the fact that he loved his wife so much. How could he ask her to terminate a pregnancy that she wanted more than anything else?

"Was that why you kicked him out?" he asked softly.

"No. No, it wasn't. I was feeling guilty, too, because while he was drunk when the baby was conceived, I was sober and I should have insisted on contraception, but there was that part of me that actually hoped that I would end up pregnant. Jack has been drinking since I met him. I always took him for a social drinker and I had no idea that it had actually developed into an addiction. During that time when we kept fighting because of my pregnancy, he lost the ability to hide it and I saw glimpses of how bad it really was." She hid her face in her hand. "One night he didn't come home and I was worried, so I called a friend of his, a partner in his firm and he told me that Jack had been fired months ago because he kept showing up drunk in court. I was only working part time then and we had a big house with a mortgage to match. Jack wasn't the kind of guy who would have savings although he used to earn a big salary, so I did a little investigating and found out how he'd been supporting us. He owed the bank a lot of money, in my name, too, as he had forged my signature."

Finally Andy understood why she had moved to the small house, why her furniture looked expensive and why she was so sad. Her husband had betrayed her and lied to her for months while exerting constant pressure on her to get rid of her unborn baby at the same time. It didn't sound like a walk in the park at all even though he'd done it all because he was afraid of losing her.

"He was drunk when I confronted him about it and he blamed the pregnancy and, by extension, me. That's when I left him." Sharon was nervously toying with a packet of sugar to avoid looking at Andy. "He came back the next day, sober as far as I could tell, and begged me for forgiveness. Said it had been the alcohol talking, that he loved me and that he would try to make it all up to me, but I just couldn't do it anymore, Andy. I just couldn't."

"And then you moved and he went to rehab?"

"I sold the house and paid back most of our debts, went back to working full time in order to be able to provide for myself and Tommy. That's when he realized that I wouldn't have his behavior anymore and he went to rehab a few weeks later." She was blinking away tears again and her voice had begun to quiver. "That's about it, I guess. Now you know my romantic life story."

To be honest, Andy had expected violence or adultery, not something like this, but in retrospect in all made a lot of sense. That's why she was so guarded around people, too, because if you couldn't trust the man you loved and who loved you, whom could you trust? Her continuous sadness was easily explained by this story, too, because every time she felt her child kick or caught a glimpse of her swollen belly in the mirror, she would have to think of what had happened with her husband and how her new baby had been the reason for her marriage to crumble. Andy was pretty sure that Jack loved her very much, but he seemed selfish with an addictive personality which was a sure recipe for disaster.

"I'm so sorry, Sharon."

"Don't be. I knew he was trouble when I married him. I just didn't know how much." She finished the last of her now cold beverage and looked at her watch. "Look, I'm really tired, Andy. I think I'll go home and squeeze in two hours of sleep before I have to pick up Tommy." At first he thought that she was angry with him for making her tell the story, but then, with a start, he realized that she was ashamed. Ashamed of how things had come about, ashamed of her own weakness and ashamed of what she'd done.

"Hey," he said and grabbed her hand before she could slide off the bench. "Sharon, he is the one who made the mistakes, okay? There is absolutely nothing you have to be ashamed of. In fact, I'm pretty impressed by your ability to put your life back together after all that." He pulled her into his chest, holding on to her trembling body. Even without a view of her face, he could tell that she was trying very hard not to cry. "Let me drive you home, okay? And if you want to, I can pick Tommy up for you later."

"Thank you, Andy," she murmured into his chest. "Thank you so much."

She only allowed herself to cry once they were in her bed, Andy's arms wrapped securely around her, her daughter asleep under their palms. He could tell from the fierceness of her sobs that it was probably the first time that she truly allowed herself to let go and grieve for what she had lost. Andy knew that he had already said whatever comforting words could be said and so he just held her while she wept until her sobs died down and became sniffles. He watched her shoulders sink from where he was lying behind her, his arms around her and his cheek against her hair. For a moment he believed that she was actually falling asleep, but then she moved against him. At first he thought it had been unintentional but then she repeated the movement and he could feel himself harden in response.

"What are you doing?" he whispered into her ear. "You don't have to do this, Sharon."

She turned her head and he was surprised to see her red-rimmed eyes darken with arousal.

"I want to, Andy. I want you."

He reached down and ran his hand along her smooth, firm thigh, struggling with himself. He didn't want her to feel obligated to give him something in return for comforting her, but from the way she arched into his touch, he could tell that she enjoyed it. She wasn't doing it for him, she was doing it because she wanted it. His fingers found their way between her legs and under the hems of her panties and he realized that she was already wet. Sharon moaned into his touch and reached behind her to grab him and pull his boxers down. He was still holding her from behind, gently stroking her breasts when he began to rock into her with long, even thrusts. Sharon moaned, her breath hitching from time to time, matching his pace. Their rhythm was unhurried, their touches gentle and she squeezed his hand that she caught in hers to encourage him to go a little faster. Andy buried his face in her shoulder and cried out when he came inside her, helping her over the edge at almost the same time with his free hand between her legs. He breathed into her neck, feeling the vibrations of her satisfied moans rocking her body until she lay still. He brought his hand up to her belly and pulled her further into him.

"I love you, Sharon," he whispered into her ear, suddenly not caring whether she would reciprocate or not. He didn't want to make her uncomfortable, but suddenly he felt so close to her, so connected. Not only on a physical level, but on an emotional level as well.

"I want you to stay, Andy," she murmured after a beat of silence. "I want you here with me."

Granted, she hadn't said that she loved him, too, but he understood that it was too early for her. Still, he could hear in her voice that she was comfortable with his words, that she enjoyed being loved by him.

"I'm not going anywhere," he said, pulling her blankets up to cover her fully against the afternoon chill. "I'm right here."

She snuggled into him but he could tell that there was something on her mind. He remained quiet until she came around and was ready to talk.

"Andy, that was great, really but... we can't do this all the time. Not when Tommy is here, okay? He still has a hard time because he misses his daddy and I don't-"

As he couldn't see her face, Andy couldn't tell whether she was truly just worried about Tommy or whether she was eager to distance herself from him again. For a second he felt angry, but then he just ran his hand down her arm.

"Of course," he said simply then began to nibble her earlobe slightly, making her giggle. She was indeed making it very clear that he could expect nothing from her. No affirmations of love or a steady relationship; he didn't even know what would happen once her husband came back from rehab, but he knew that he wanted to make use of the time he had left, even if all he could do was hold her.


	8. Part Eight

**[ Part Eight ]**

Like a secret agent on a particularly precarious mission, Andy Flynn crept along the wall of the blissfully empty corridor towards his destination. Distant voices were filtering through the closed doors and somewhere to his right, someone was attacking a computer keyboard with more force than he had previously thought humanly possible. He had no desire to run into anyone else than whom he had come here for as this was the one place where he actually minded the fact that his reputation always preceded him. He gave a relieved sigh when he finally reached the last door to the left that bore a sign announcing that he was about to enter Sergeant Sharon Raydor's office. Upon his knock, she called him in right away. Quickly closing the door behind him, he feigned breathlessness but could hardly contain his grin when he addressed her: "Thank god! None of them saw me."

Sharon narrowed her eyes playfully and shook her head, reclining in her desk chair. "Thank god indeed. I don't want any rumors flying around about me fraternizing with the LAPD's resident troublemaker."

"Troublemaker?" Andy raised both eyebrows. "I've been the epitome of docility for the past few months, Sergeant."

He approached Sharon and reached down to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear while he softly caressed her cheek. Smiling tentatively, she placed her hand on his and turned her head to kiss the side of his palm.

"That must have been my good influence," she smirked and he leaned down to brush his lips against hers. They came apart relatively quickly for fear of being disturbed by someone but none of them actually pulled back to bring some distance between them. Andy took Sharon's hand and rubbed her knuckles gently while he panned the room. LAPD offices weren't especially cheerful with their gray linoleum floors and whitewashed walls, but somehow Sharon had managed to make herself comfortable without bringing her private life into the mix. On top of her desk sat a bouquet of white tulips in a vase and by the window stood a tall potted plant while the walls were adorned with art prints in fiery colors. Andy was little surprised that the office was well-organized and spotless despite the considerable amount of files that were stacked neatly in a high set of shelves. Over her shoulder, he caught the only personal item in the room: A framed photograph of her family. It was half-hidden behind her computer and could therefore only be seen if one was behind the desk, so curious visitors couldn't even catch a glimpse of it. The silver frame was simple and tasteful but Andy didn't pay much attention to it as the picture's motif was what commanded his full attention. There was Sharon with a younger, maybe two-year old Tommy in her arms, leaning into an attractive, broad-shouldered man with a charming smile who had wrapped his arm securely around her. They were standing in a garden of some sort and the sunlight lit up Sharon's hair, giving it a reddish glow that emphasized the happiness in her face. Sharon caught where he was looking and gave him one of the pained closed-mouth smiles that were so typical of her. He wondered why she kept the picture around. Was it pure habit? Did she do it to torture herself? Or did she have it in order to be able to pretend that everything was fine? Either way, he couldn't help but stare at the jovial guy in the picture and the woman by his side who lacked all of the darkness and pain that always seemed to surround the one who was standing right next to him. He forced himself to take his eyes off the picture and smiled down at Sharon before he raised his hand with the forgotten bag of chocolate muffins.

"I thought maybe the two of you would care for some chocolate," he said. "You hardly ate anything at lunch."

She accepted the food and squeezed his hand that was still holding hers. "Thank you, Andy." There was no explanation as to why she'd been picking her salad so aimlessly just two hours ago and Andy knew that it was better not to ask. Sharon usually withdrew herself if pressured and he didn't want that. Still on the edge of her impossibly tidy desk, Andy studied her. Something was different about her but he couldn't quite put a finger on it. Somewhere along the way, he had gotten used to her being cautious and sad, but today she seemed downright upset, her inner turmoil bubbling just under the surface. He knew by now that pushing her wouldn't bring about the desired results, so he could only hope that she would come around herself eventually.

"You're staring, Andy Flynn." She looked down at her chest. "Am I showing too much cleavage again?"

He snorted. "Hardly, Sharon. Besides, you could never show too much cleavage for my liking."

She rolled her eyes and laughed, her hand still on the modestly undone top button of her striped blouse. He decided that if she didn't want to talk about what was bothering her, he might as well cheer her up a little.

"But I might have a bit of a problem with that leg," he said, eliciting a shriek from her when he reached down and placed his cool hand on top of her exposed thigh. The navy suit she was wearing was perfectly professional yet gave enough emphasis to her physical assets to turn heads. Maybe it was because he was so madly in love with her, but he couldn't get over how sexy she looked even with her ever-growing belly. If she hadn't been pregnant, he might have locked the door and tried to seduce her. Since they'd first slept together three weeks ago, they had only repeated it once when Tommy had been at Sharon's friend Alexa's house. The memory of that lavish afternoon still sometimes threatened to distract him to the point of just staring into space and if he was quite truthful, it was the reason why he had decided to drop by the bakery across the street and then pay a visit to the floor that was occupied by FID, jokingly referred to as "purgatory" among the LAPD.

Sharon rose to her feet and he was both surprised and elated to see the now familiar expression of arousal in her eyes when she closed what little distance remained between them and rested her outstretched arms on his shoulders, lightly clasping her hands together behind his head.

"Stop this, will you?" she murmured against his lips. "I am currently chained to this desk and I have way too much energy."

"It didn't look that way when you had me fix dinner for you and the kid while you reclined on the couch, lazy."

"Ummm," Sharon made, her hum turning into a chuckle when his arms came up around her and pulled her into him.

"Have dinner with me tonight," he said, his lips following the curve of her cheekbone. "Let's go somewhere romantic."

He hadn't expected her to stiffen in his arms and so he let go of her almost immediately when he found her whole body going rigid. She stepped back and folded her hands over her stomach, giving him the fleeting impression that she was somehow trying to draw his attention to it.

"I can't," she said quietly. "I have an appointment."

Sensing that the mysterious prior engagement might be what caused the change in her, Andy narrowed his eyes and gently closed his fingers around her elbow.

"Is everything okay?"

"Oh, yes. Of course. It's all fine." Her smile was uncharacteristically shy and he knew that she was lying. Before he could ask, she gestured towards the door. "Look, I'm really sorry, but I have a lot of paperwork to do and-"

"Of course." Andy felt like a shunned dog that had been left outside in the rain. He had almost reached the door when she called him back.

"Andy." He turned around and for a moment she looked as if she was going to give her secret away but then her face closed down again. "Would you like to drop by this weekend? Saturday, maybe?"

* * *

"Alright. Like this. Careful or you'll hurt yourself." Andy closed his hand around Tommy's small one in order to apply some pressure while they turned the screwdriver together. The little boy's face was tight with concentration and his large green eyes were narrowed at the bolt. When it finally clicked into place, Andy gently withdrew and gave a thumbs-up. "Pretty good work, little man." Tommy's eyes were shining with excitement and pride when he turned towards his mother who was folding baby clothes and sorting them into the dresser by the window, looking a little absent-minded.

"Mommy! I helped Andy set up the bed!"

She turned towards her son and gave him a wide, proud smile. "You did! I'm so glad you're here to help." She slid the last drawer shut and walked towards them, running her hand through Tommy's hair. "How is the crib coming along, anyway?" She looked at the pile of parts and gave Andy a little smirk that inevitably made him want to kiss her. However, she had made it very clear that although he was welcome to spend time with her and Tommy as often as he wanted to, open displays of affection around her child were completely off-limits. He could see where she was coming from, but that didn't stop him from longing to touch her. Sharon was wearing leggings today, showcasing her still perfectly slim legs, and a very loose-cut white t-shirt along with a warm bottle-green cardigan that she had wrapped around herself. Although she was eight months pregnant by now, she still seemed petite and her stomach was round and protruding but not huge. She caught Andy's gaze and bit her bottom lip slightly, her front teeth grazing it with what Andy had learned to identify as longing.

She turned away from him and placed her hand on top of Tommy's sandy hair. "Honey, since you've done such great work, you can go and get the chocolate bar in the drawer next to the fridge as a reward," she told him and the boy bolted out out the room with an excited shriek. "Be careful on the stairs!" she yelled after him, but he didn't even seem to hear her. Grateful for the distraction and well-aware of the limited amount of time at their disposal, Andy encircled her in his arms and kissed her, reveling in the sweet taste of her lips and the satisfied little hums she gave. He drew back and looked into her eyes, grinning.

"That was smart, Sharon."

She pouted. "No it wasn't. I just sacrificed my last chocolate bar for a kiss that lasted only a few seconds." She giggled into his mouth when he kissed her again in response.

"I'll buy you a ton of chocolate bars," he promised, rubbing the hardened muscles of her back with his knuckles to give her some relief. She leaned into the touch and closed her eyes, pressing her cheek to his chest while she moaned her appreciation. "I'll give you a massage later," he promised. "Your back is impossibly tense, girl." She grimaced and nodded, stepping away from him as they heard footsteps approaching on the stairs. There was definitely an advantage to the fact that Tommy had the grace of an elephant when it came to climbing stairs. She took a hurried, somewhat awkward step towards the dresser, causing him to smile goofily as he had only recently discovered how unintentionally funny she could be when she was flustered. It seemed that he had discovered a new facet of her every day since she had opened up to him and he found himself falling even more deeply for the woman that was slowly emerging from behind the put-together facade.

Tommy came back into the room, chocolate bar already half-unwrapped. The longing look in Sharon's eyes was unmistakable and Andy turned around to face the crib in order to hide his amusement from her.

"Can I have a bite, baby?" he heard her ask softly. "Just a small one."

Tommy grudgingly handed over the candy and watched his mother closely as she took a small bite and then pretended to take another, bigger one. He reacted with a scream full of agitation and disappointment that made Sharon almost choke on her mouthful of chocolate. She swallowed and handed the bar back with a calming growl of "Just kidding!" Tommy looked sheepish for a moment and took a step away from his mother, probably to protect the rest of his chocolate bar.

"Sorry," he murmured, eyes darting around the room.

"Just pulling your leg," she responded, obviously sorry herself for making fun of him. The child squealed when she pulled him towards her and sat down in the comfortable armchair in the corner, hoisting him gently up on to her knees. It took some adjustment for him to fit into what was left of her lap but soon he was resting against her chest, eating his chocolate while staring into space absent-mindedly. After a while he looked up at her, the chocolate gone and the wrapping paper vanished inside his fist.

"Mommy, what is my sister's name?" he asked her. Sharon smiled down at him and kissed the top of his head.

"She doesn't have one yet." Her voice sounded even but Andy sensed that she was struggling with something. Maybe it was the fact that her husband wasn't around to choose the name with her. It almost broke his heart to see tears in her eyes when he turned back towards the two of them.

"Daddy says he has an idea," Tommy beamed. "He told me yesterday when we went to the park but he didn't say what it was."

The shock went through Andy's body like a jolt of electricity and suddenly his hand was trembling, the screwdriver soon rolling at his feet. He turned around slowly to face Sharon who was looking at him over the top of Tommy's head, her eyes dry and her expression completely neutral. His heart was still drumming against his ribs in shock, but he knew that soon it would be fueled by anger. Her voice was soft and low when she addressed Tommy again, asking him to go and brush his teeth. Reluctantly, the little boy slid off his mother's lap and made for the door. The moment of silence between them seemed to stretch forever and ended only when they heard the bathroom door close in the distance.

"When were you planning on telling me that he's back?" Andy asked stiffly. Suddenly the air seemed stuffy and the room hot and oppressive around him. Sharon rose to level with him and although she was struggling, he didn't reach out a hand to help her up.

"Tonight," she replied evenly, her voice suddenly flat and hard. She was preparing for the full onslaught of his anger which was only fueled by the fact that she already knew him well enough to know his breaking point.

"That's why you didn't have time to meet me for dinner the other night," he said and although he was trying to sound reasonable, his voice didn't obey him, the accusatory tone unmistakable. Sharon stood in front of him, shoulders back, chin raised and gaze hard. She wasn't about to let him trample all over her, that much was obvious from her posture and Andy really wanted to stay calm. What had he been expecting? That Jack would just vanish and stay away forever? Sharon was close to her due date and even a long term therapy didn't take forever. His return had always been a matter of time and he, Andy, had once again managed to ban that thought from his conscious, to forget the fact that everything between them was, to some extent, destined to be temporary. His chest seemed to tighten at the thought of losing her to her husband, taking up the space that his thundering heart needed so badly. "So you are taking him back?" He sounded like a sullen child, but he couldn't help it. He felt so helpless in his rage that he felt ready to cry.

"Jack is sober," Sharon said quietly. "He borrowed some money from his parents to be able to set up his own practice."

"That doesn't answer my question," Andy snapped. If she was taken aback by the aggressive tone, she didn't show it. Sharon Raydor was once again like a brick wall, hard and concrete and impenetrable.

"He is trying to make this work," she said. The troubled look in her eyes made his heart sink. Although he was the one who was who had been sleeping in her bed for the past few months, Jack Raydor still owned her heart, or at least a large part of it. Was it possible for Sharon to love two men at the same time? When it came to her religious beliefs, definitely not. But what about her subconscious? The part of her she couldn't control? Did she love him, Andy? Or had she just needed someone who gave her a little comfort until her husband returned? Andy was a hothead and had always been. He had never been good at controlling his emotions, especially negative ones, and the anger that was suddenly welling up inside him was more forceful than anything he had felt before. It was unfair. Jack had betrayed her and hurt her so damn much while Andy had put his own needs second and had done absolutely everything he could to make life easier for Sharon. Why couldn't she love him? He wasn't just angry with her, he knew deep down, but also with his streak of bad luck. Why did he have to fall in love with a married, pregnant woman? Why couldn't he ever be lucky in love for a change?

"If you just needed a warm body next to you in bed, you could at least be honest about it. No need to let me down easy." It was out before he even knew he had decided to say it but, curiously, the hurt expression on her face only made him more angry. What right did she have to look hurt? He was the one who was trying not to love her too much, who had to stay away from alcohol when it was the only thing he could think of that might have drowned out the thought of her, if only for a few hours.

"That's not what it was," she replied, her voice hard and neutral and he felt her slipping away from him. She was already using the past tense. Andy knew that he had to apologize in order not to drive her even further away, but at the same time he was lost in the raging fire of his own anger. He hadn't been a good husband either, but he was trying so hard not too stress her, not too put any pressure on her that it was threatening to break him. He looked at the long beautiful hair framing her face, the deep green eyes, her full lips. In that very moment he felt so heated towards her that he might as well have hated her.

"So this is it," he spat, some part of him scandalized by the viciousness of his tone. "You're breaking things off with me. Just like that."

Andy didn't understand what had made him snap right now, without even hearing her side of the story, but he knew with sudden clarity that he had been repressing the negativity that was associated with his love for her for a while now. Suddenly he began to feel wrath at himself rather than anyone else. Joel had made it so clear that Andy's problem was the fact that he refused to acknowledge certain realities. He was working so hard to avoid those patterns, but now he had fallen into the very same trap once again. He was so angry, but at the same time fear was beginning to rise in his throat like bitter bile. The reason why he pushed his doubts away, why he never dared to voice them was that he was scared that she would come to her senses if he demanded anything from her, that she would realize that being with him was a mistake and that she would end it there and then. Some frantic, idiotic part of him had decided that she needed to be pushed away before she could push him away and he was unable to stop himself.

"Andy-"

"For god's sake, I should have listened to the others. You really _are_ the ice queen!" Although he knew that he was being unfair in bringing her lack of popularity into this, it felt good to see her face fall and for a moment he felt elated, his senses tingling with the adrenaline that accompanied his lashing out at her. Curiously, letting go made him feel in control and in that moment, it felt as if he was back in charge of his life for the first time since he'd made her acquaintance.

"Maybe you should go," she suggested tonelessly. Her defenses were back up and right in front of him, she turned back into Sergeant Raydor who didn't let anyone see her pain. Panic was welling up inside him with the realization that this was the end, that the trust between them was as fragile as they came. Andy suddenly felt drained of all energy and the lack of anger made his head spin with disorienting dizziness. The taste of her lips was the only thing preferable to that of whiskey and now that he was losing that, his desire for alcohol returned with a resonating pang. She turned away from him and stood by the window, arms folded and back turned and he knew it was time to go.

"Don't do this, Sharon," he said weakly, but she didn't even move. His heart as heavy as cement, he turned towards the door where Tommy had appeared with a frightened expression.

"Why were you yelling at Mommy?" he asked in a little voice, looking impossibly small. Sharon was next to Andy before he even knew she'd moved and bent down, wrapping her arms tightly around her son. He tried to commit her soft expression to memory, aware of the fact that he would not see it for a while, if he would ever see it again.

"It's okay, honey," she cooed. "Everything's alright. Let's go and read your bedtime story." Her voice cracked, but only for the last syllable. "Andy can see himself out." And without looking at him again, she led her child towards the bedroom, leaving Andy numb and devastated.

* * *

Andy was tired, but at least he wasn't hungover and that was the only thing that kept him standing nowadays. Despite the pain his fallout with Sharon had inflicted upon him, he had retained control over himself, had managed to not drown his sorrows in the nearest bottle. Instead he'd called up Joel and had poured his heart out to him and the bottle of whiskey he had bought despite his better judgment down the kitchen sink. As he had watched the golden liquid swirl down the drain, he had vowed that he would not fall off the wagon again this time. He had been staring down his phone for a week every night before he had finally realized that she wouldn't call. So for now it was back to the cafeteria on lunch breaks and only the flickering of his old television to keep him company in the evenings. Andy could have called her, but a small but very adamant part of him knew that maybe, just maybe, this was for the better. It didn't matter how much he loved her, she wouldn't be able to love him back. Not now, not after all of his accusations. So Andy went about his days, both a little numb, but painfully alert at the same time. This time he wouldn't chicken out of it all, wouldn't get drunk to forget. He would hold his head up high and get through this like he knew he had to.

But even three months later, the nights were still the worst, spent chasing shadows and endlessly reliving his confrontation with Sharon. Had his anger been justified? Had he really just saved himself before she could crush him? Or had he acted rashly, had she probably been about to say something completely different? Had she secretly hoped that he would convince her to split from Jack for good? Had he blown his chance? Sometimes he was on the edge of calling her, but then he remembered that some things couldn't be forced or he was too scared that she would not hear him out. Hear him out saying what, he then thought. Would he apologize? Could he trust himself? Would he yell at her? When the doorbell rang and interrupted his gloomy musings, he considered not getting up to answer the door for a moment. When he did, however, he was glad that he had.

Had his life been a movie, Sharon Raydor would have been soaked, clothes clinging to her body, hair a wet, tangled mess flowing over her shoulders. He would have pulled her out of the pouring rain and into his arms, possibly whispering affirmations of his love into her ear. But their romance didn't have a script. It was raw and painful and reality always got in the way, so the night was clear and quiet and lacked all the drama that his mind had created for this moment, should it ever arrive. The fact that it had, however, was cause enough for his heart to jump and his knees to weaken. The woman on his doorstep looked different from the one he had gotten to know and somewhere deep inside registered the fact that her cheekbones were more prominent when she wasn't pregnant and her frame was lither, her curves less pronounced. She was wearing the same dark blue trenchcoat that she'd been wearing when he'd first met her, but her glasses were gone and so was the barrier he'd seen in her eyes so often. In fact, the rawness of her emotions both astounded and frightened him.

"Sharon." He said just that one word, confusion and hurt clogging up his brain, rendering him unable to form a coherent sentence.

"Can I come in?" she asked, her voice much deeper than he remembered and he stepped aside to let her enter, taking in the different way she walked when she passed him. It suddenly struck him that she had never been to his house before and he was surprised that she even knew where he lived. It had been one of the little oddities of their relationship that had gone completely unchallenged on his part. He steered her into the living-room and saw her eyes quickly appraise the mess on the coffee table that contained a half empty container of cranberry juice but no liquor bottles. Without being asked to, she sat down on the couch, her hands on her thighs, her back oddly straight, evoking images of a school girl in the headmaster's office. He lowered himself into the armchair opposite the couch, his hands trembling and his throat dry. When she unbuttoned her coat he noticed for the first time that she had lost more weight than just what was to be expected two months after giving birth. She looked positively frail in her simple black pencil skirt and blouse. Had she just returned from work? Why would she come to him now of all times? He was about to ask her all those things when she spoke.

"Andy, I didn't want you to hear it in the grapevine," she began, her voice hollow and her eyes suddenly awash with grief. "Andy, it's Steven. He was on duty today and got shot in a standoff. The bullet hit him in the head. There was nothing they could do."

The news hit Andy like a ton of bricks. His partner was dead; killed. And there was Sharon, looking harassed and tired, personally here to give him the bad news. Despite himself, he felt overwhelming gratitude towards her for being so considerate.

"I'm so sorry," she said in a shaky voice. "I understand you were somewhat close."

Not best friends, but good acquaintances, Andy thought. He liked Steven as a friendly, laid-back person who didn't judge people and had been more than ready to forgive him for his many alcohol-related misgivings. Maybe, now that he was sober, they could have become friends. But the other man had been taken away and would never return. A heavy weight seemed to settle on Andy's chest as the realization began to sink in and he leaned his head back against the back of the chair, suddenly feeling drained. To his surprise, Sharon got up and walked towards him, perching on the arm of the chair and sliding one arm around his shoulders, fingers quickly entangled in his hair. He felt her lips against his temple as she cradled his head against hers.

"I'm so sorry," she repeated, her own voice quivering now. He closed his eyes and enjoyed the feeling of her warm, soft lips against his skin and her gentle fingers against his scalp. He wanted to pull her close and tell her that he loved her and that he was sorry, but he didn't dare open his mouth because he was too afraid that words would end this blissful moment. Instead he reached out and put his arm around her waist that was unfamiliar in its smallness. He even missed the roundness of her stomach and the kicking of her baby.

"How is the little one?" he finally asked, surprised at the soft quality of his voice. "Did everything go alright?"

She pulled back just enough to be able to look at him and the expression of grief and loss on her face was lightened up by motherly pride. "She is wonderful, Andy, and everything went well."

There was a moment of silence until he spoke again, his voice gruff. "Thank you for coming here personally. I appreciate it."

She gave him a sad smile and withdrew her hand, making him wince with the loss of physical contact. "I should have come here a lot earlier," she said softly. "I am so unhappy with the way things ended between us, I can't even eat."

"I shouldn't have yelled at you like that," Andy conceded. "It was wrong."

She shook her head. "You were right to be angry. I should have told you about Jack's return that day at my office. I was just... overwhelmed. I just wanted to stay in my comfortable little illusion."

Although Andy dreaded the answer, he knew he needed to ask the question. Maybe he would be able to sleep again after he faced reality. Maybe he wouldn't spend each and every night tossing and turning and wondering how she was.

"Has he moved back in?"

During the beat of silence that followed, he felt his insides turn to jelly. He was about to ask her not to answer when she finally did.

"He has. He was there for when Elizabeth was born and he adores her." Her voice sounded matter-of-fact, her face was straight and didn't show how she was feeling about it. Andy imagined the guy from the photo in her small bedroom, imagined him in the spot that Andy had been taking up for the past few months, wrapped in Sharon's sheets, his arms around his wife. For a moment he felt as if he was about to be sick. There were just too many images in his mind. Steven, going down and falling on to the concrete, dead. Blood pooling around him. Jack Raydor, holding Sharon's hand while she screamed out in pain. The two of them kissing tearfully, a small infant in Sharon's arms. And memories. Of Sharon snuggling into his side on her sofa. Of their talk at the restaurant, feeling her daughter kick.

"How are you even able to trust him after everything that's happened?" He sounded accusatory, but he didn't really care.

"I don't," she said softly. "We have a long way ahead of us yet."

"So all he has to do is return with his tail between his legs and promise you to be better?" Andy asked, desperately trying to keep his temper under control this time but already on the road to failure again. The broken look in Sharon's eyes gave him pause and he grabbed her hand and squeezed it without thinking about it.

"Of course not, Andy, but he is my children's father and they need him." Although she was on the verge of tears, he could tell that she believed in what she was saying and that nothing he could say would make her reconsider her choice. A deep, painful feeling of longing began to pool in the pit of his stomach.

"The son whose financial security he threatened by piling up debts? The daughter he wanted to have aborted?"

He was sorry to see tears brimming in her eyes now and his body language continued to tell the opposite of what his mouth did. Accusations were accompanied by comforting gestures and hostility was washed away by the gentleness with which he rubbed his thumb over her cold knuckles.

"I love you, Sharon," he almost pleaded. "I promise I would be a good stepfather to your children. I just want to make you happy. You and your kids both." He knew that he sounded corny but he meant every word he said and he felt it necessary to say those words to make Sharon realize how much she meant to him.

"I have to apologize to you, Andy. I've made a mistake," she said. "I shouldn't have kissed you, I shouldn't have slept with you. I made a vow and I should have kept it." Dread rose inside Andy. Why did she have to bring up religion now? He wasn't an atheist but he couldn't believe that god would frown upon someone ending a marriage that had brought about nothing but hurt and unhappiness in favor of another relationship. But Sharon wouldn't have it. He could tell how guilty she felt and he wished that he could somehow take that guilt away from her. "I should have never let you stay when you came around the second time." Her voice was so quiet now that he had trouble understanding her. "When you stood on my doorstep with your pastries all sheepishly..." She gave a short laugh that expressed all of her endearment at the memory. "I should have sent you away because I just wanted to kiss you there and then."

Andy's heart began to beat faster and he squeezed her hand. "Really? I didn't think you liked me. I certainly didn't think you were interested in me."

She smiled and cupped his cheek as he looked up at her towering over her on the armrest. "It was just a flash of something that didn't become real until later on when we'd already become friends."

"But you can't be with me," he said in a hollow voice.

"No, I can't," she sounded sad but determined. "I wasn't sure of what was the right thing to do when we last saw each other, but I am now. I have a husband who is doing everything in his power to make our marriage work and I have his two children. I can't just run off because I have fallen in love with-"

She trailed off as their eyes met and the realization that she had just told him that she loved him but would never be able to act upon it sank in, making Andy feel as if he was in the water, being pulled under by the current.

"Sharon, you're making the wrong choice." He noticed that he was beginning to sound increasingly desperate, but he didn't care. Somehow he needed to make Sharon realize that she was sacrificing her own happiness in order to do what she clearly believed to be the right thing.

"I am so sorry, Andy. I should have never given in to the temptation. I should not have relied on you, I shouldn't have allowed myself to fall for you. It was a big mistake and you are more than right in hating me for it. I led you on and I used you." She bit her lip to hold back tears but failed and he watched them run down her face. She tried to disentangle her fingers from where she'd interwoven them with his, but he didn't let go.

"Sharon, you can't do this. You have a right to be happy." He pulled her closer and began to kiss her tears away, feeling her tremble in his arms.

"I have to." She squeezed his hand and pressed his lips to his, not opening her mouth. It was a chaste kiss between friends, a kiss goodbye and it tasted salty with tears of regret. With sudden clarity, he knew that he had lost the fight. Back when there had been a chance to make her see that she would be better off with him, he had blown it by yelling at her. The sudden clarity with which he saw what had happened struck him as surreal. She wouldn't have kissed him that day if she had already resolved that she would take Jack back. It was partly his fault that she had chosen her husband because he had missed the opportunity to show her how much she meant to him. Sharon would not be persuaded to change her mind now and all he could do was to stretch out this moment, to revel in the fact that she actually did love him back and to hold on to her as long as he possibly could. He caressed her lips with his without engaging her in a deeper kiss and ran his hands up and down her back in a soothing motion. When they came apart, he was close to tears as well.

"I am letting you go because I respect you and your decisions," he told her quietly. "I am convinced that you're doing the wrong thing, but it's also the honorable thing to do."

She smiled and caressed his cheek, rubbing a lone tear away with her thumb.

"Thank you, Andy," she answered, her voice firmer than he had expected it to be at the sight of her wet cheeks. "Once again, I am so sorry for bringing all this on you."

"Don't apologize. You're only human."

For a moment they sat in silence, drinking in the looks of each other until he spoke again. "I don't expect we can stay friends?"

She shook her head slowly. "I want to stay faithful to my husband, Andy, and I don't believe I can do that when I am with you."

"Because I am a sex-machine, baby." He knew that the comment was goofy and a little out of place in a serious conversation, but her laughter made him smile despite the fact that they were about to say goodbye to each other.

"Don't flatter yourself," she said, smiling again. "Maybe someday we can be friends."

"Yes. Then. Not now, though," he finished for her. A part of him wondered where all of his anger had gone. He had expected to be furious, maybe even vicious, but all there was space for in his heart was regret. Maybe the past three months and his continuing sobriety had instilled some sense of self-awareness in him, but he knew that he had to let her go, even if it hurt like hell. And closure, after all, was better than what they had both been enduring over the past few months. She rested her forehead against Andy's, inhaling deeply.

"You smell so good, Andy," she whispered. "Please don't think that this is easy for me. I just want to take you in my arms and never let go."

"Don't worry, I can relate."

She drew back to look at him, her face completely open and awash with emotion for once. She began to pepper soft, gentle kisses all over his face.

"I love you," he said once again, maybe just to hear the words again. As opposed to when he had said them to other women in the past they sounded easy and natural and, most importantly, completely true.

"Don't say that, Andy. You can't talk to me like this."

"Okay, we're making a deal. From now on I'll treat you like the FID-officer that you are." She raised an eyebrow and he held up a calming hand. "Let me finish. I'll joke about you, question your decisions and openly antagonize you when I think you're wrong."

She scrunched up her face and managed to look cute. "That doesn't sound very appealing to me."

He leaned in. "It's going to be easier on both of us. But every fucking time that I do that, what I really mean is 'I love you'."

She snorted. "That is so cheesy!"

He tilted his head slightly. "It does look that way on first glance, but consider this: It is my way of controlling you because every time I speak to you like that, you will be painfully aware of what I am really telling you. And you will question the choice you've made today every damn time. That is my way of getting payback."

For a moment Sharon looked as if she couldn't decide whether she should laugh, cry or lash out at him but then she settled for a playful, yet confused smile.

"That is truly devious, Andy."

Silence settled over them and he knew that this was the end. All the words had been said and opening a new topic would just stall the inevitable. Goodbye was the only possible outcome of their conversation and they both knew it. Sharon got up and so did Andy. For a moment they stood opposite each other, challenging the other to make the first move. Then Sharon stepped forward and embraced him tightly, holding on to him for a few seconds before she released him.

"Goodbye, Andy."

He let go of her hand. "Goodbye, Sharon."

**A/N**: So much for "then", but this story is not over yet. Thank you so much for everyone who is reading this. I appreciate all your comments and interest a lot and I hope very much that you continue to enjoy reading. Also, I would like to apologize for taking so long to update. Bad case of writer's block, don't you hate it? Now I will have to go and cry into my cranberry and soda.


	9. Part Nine

**[ Part Nine ]**

**N O W**

Sharon gave a soft groan of pleasure when her fingers closed around the chilled glass, the moisture of the condensed water wetting her fingertips slightly. She brought the glass to her lips and took a small sip, the taste of the dry white wine spreading through her mouth, leaving her throat with comforting warmth. She was determined to enjoy the one glass she could allow herself tonight after a long day of complicated issues, endless meetings with lawyers and numerous dirty glances from upset police officers. Treading carefully not to spill a drop, she carried her glass over to the coffee table where her plate of sandwiches was already waiting. With a sight she lowered herself down, grabbing a throw pillow to hug it to her chest, praying that no police officer would choose to even as much as just accidentally discharge their weapon tonight. As she was the one who was running the department, she was not officially on the call roster and she usually had no problem taking advantage of the privileges her high rank brought about. However, she had two officers on her team who had just become parents for the first time and so she had chosen to not put them on call for a few weeks so they could get acquainted to parenthood without having to leave the house in a hurry in the middle of the night. Sharon was a strict boss who always expected top performances and thorough investigations, but she was also conscious of her subordinates' needs, especially when it came to family. Right now, however, she regretted the decision because she had been dealing with so much today that she was desperately longing for a hot bath and at least two glasses of the fine French pinot grigio her favorite wine bar served.

She had taken her shoes off the moment she had entered the house and now curled her toes into the rug and closed her eyes, sipping her drink slowly. She knew that she should have eaten first, but somehow the day's events had taken her appetite away. Working in FID wasn't as hard as it used to be; she had quite a reputation now, so most officers met her with grudging respect and she had grown a thick skin over the years when it came to insults or ridicule. In fact, she rather enjoyed her role as the powerful outsider most of the time, knowing that she had a circle of devoted friends and her two children who loved her. At work she didn't need to be liked; in fact it helped her cause not to be too close to anyone. Her phone chirped and she grinned at the text message: "Nice job today. Too bad you're on call. I'll show you my new watering hole next weekend. No excuses. XO, G." Gavin had become one of her closest friends. Having worked with the attorney on numerous occasions, she had come to appreciate his witty sense of humor and his kind heart.

Sharon was still debating whether to turn on the television or make an attempt to work up enough concentration to read a book when she heard a key in the lock. Her eyes flitted towards the clock on her desk; it was too early for Lizzie to be home yet. A moment later she heard a bag drop in the hall, followed by a pair of trainers and then her daughter appeared in the doorway, wearing an expression that was somewhere between moping and devastation. Sharon cocked her head, already vaguely expecting what was coming next.

"Sam's gay," she murmured without preamble and heavily dropped on to the couch next to her mother. "Says he wasn't sure before, but after dating me he is." She folded her arms in front of her chest and gloomily stared at the coffee table in front of her in silence. Although Sharon felt sympathy for her daughter, she had to suppress a laugh at the almost comical display of hurt pride. She knew that Lizzie had just picked someone she got along well with at ballet school to go on a date with because all of her friends were currently trying their hand at the dating game. There hadn't been any genuinely romantic feelings involved yet and for that Sharon was glad as it meant hurt feelings rather than true heart break. She wrapped one arm around her daughter and felt her embrace her tightly in return. Lizzie was a lot like Sharon had been at seventeen. Head full of ballet, novels and music, curious about boys but not actually willing to commit to a relationship just for the sake of having one. She was waiting for someone she really liked and Sharon hoped that it would not be a brilliant but self-centered law student. Sam had been the rare exception and a selfish little part of Sharon was glad that she would have her child to herself for a little while longer.

"I feel like an idiot, Mom. Boys turn gay after dating me. What does that say about me?" Lizzie lamented into her mother's shoulder, causing a smile to appear on Sharon's face that, fortunately, she could not see with her head buried in the sweater.

"Nothing, actually," Sharon said softly. "People don't _turn_ gay. They just are and you actually did him quite a favor in helping him learn more about his own sexuality. It's also quite a testament to his trust in you that he was so open about it."

Lizzie gave a little growl that reminded Sharon of her brother. Thinking about Tom still gave her the slightest pang of pain even though she should have been used to missing him on a daily basis by now. After all, her son had moved to Washington, D.C. for college almost two years ago.

"I _know_, Mom. You've said that before, but that's what it is going to look like to people at school. Lizzie Raydor is such a boring person that guys who date her are put off girls forever!"

Straightening up, she looked at Sharon again with an expectant look that she knew was her way of asking her to tell her that everything would be okay. For a second she took in her daughter's straight caramel-colored hair that she wore at shoulder-length and her blue eyes that were the exact shade of her father's.

"If they do say that at all, let them. Your friends will understand and that's all that matters."

Lizzie still looked miserable, so Sharon decided to bring out the big guns. "I know exactly what you need. It's in the freezer downstairs. Ben and Jerry's."

Lizzie's eyes lit up as only a teenager's could at the mention of ice-cream.

"My favorite?"

"Chocolate chip, of course," Sharon beamed.

There was a small moment of silence, then Lizzie narrowed her eyes.

"Mom... you knew this would happen, didn't you?" She looked as if she couldn't decide whether to be angry or amused so Sharon just shrugged apologetically.

"I have 50 years of experience with human beings, honey. That is a lot compared to your seventeen."

"I'll get the ice-cream," Lizzie murmured.

"Bring two spoons!" Sharon called after her, earning a huff. She indulged in a little chuckle that was immediately silenced by the sudden but immediately persistent ringing of her cell phone. With a pained moan she grabbed the offending piece of technology. She had to try hard not to allow the annoyed tone to seep into her voice as she answered it. When Lizzie returned with the ice-cream, Sharon was already slipping on her shoes and throwing the dark-blue trench coat around her shoulders. Despite her apologetic smile, her daughter's face fell.

"A crime scene?" she asked wearily. "I thought we might watch a movie and lament my general existence."

Sharon was glad that Lizzie's sense of humor seemed to be about to return, but she still closed the distance between them and hugged her to her chest, kissing the top of her head. "I put 'The First Wives' club in the VCR. It's what Gavin likes to watch when he's been dumped. Although I might have to remind you that poor Sam has done nothing wrong at all."

Lizzie crinkled her nose. "Stop being so damn understanding of everyone," she growled good-naturedly. "For tonight I am going to pretend that he's the biggest asshole ever and tomorrow after practice we're going to hang out again like we used to."

"That's my girl." Sharon stepped back and grabbed her keys from the table in the hall. "If I'm lucky, I'll be home in time for 'You don't own me'."

* * *

Sharon couldn't deny that she liked the grim faces of the crime scene personnel as she had her sergeants strip away the standard yellow LAPD crime scene tape and replace it with FID's red one. She was, very literally, staking her claim here and she didn't even have to slow her pace to have it done as her subordinate officers were the ones who did the legwork. Lights were flashing and a small crowd had gathered but she didn't let herself be distracted, all the while barking the usual orders at her people while she was surveying the scene, trying to take in all the details. It was the figure standing next to Lieutenant Provenza by the side of the crime scene that almost made her freeze in her tracks. It took all her self-restraint to continue going about her business although her heart had suddenly started to slam against her ribs.

_Andy Flynn_.

Seventeen years and seeing him still felt like a blow to the stomach. She buried her hands in her pockets both out of habit and vaguely aware of the fact that she was trying not to let anyone see them tremble at the sight of him. Considering the fact that they were both working for the LAPD, they had managed to stay clear of each other remarkably well ever since she'd notified him of his partner's death. In fact, they'd only ever seen each other in passing and their interactions had merely consisted of polite nods or quick glances. He'd only been in trouble with her division a handful of times and in the beginning she had handed all of it off to Ginger to deal with while she now didn't handle minor offenses herself at all anymore. She'd heard that Provenza had been his partner for a few years now and she found that both oddly infuriating and a bit amusing. She also wondered whether the old lieutenant knew of his partner's former relationship with what he considered his arch nemesis for some reason that was well beyond her understanding.

With deliberate ease she approached the two men but almost recoiled when Andy addressed her by her rank and last name.

"Captain Raydor!"

Her throat became dry at the sound of his voice. A little more gruff with age and yet the very same melodic tone she had grown so used to back then. And here they were. In the middle of the night, at another crime scene, on opposite sides of the red tape again. Only this time he wasn't the officer who had broken the rules of professional conduct but a concerned squad mate who was here to oversee the proceedings.

"Lieutenant Flynn. I am a little busy. What is it?" It took a lot of strength to keep up her stride when she walked towards him, stopping right in front of him and Provenza.

"Well, we were wondering if while you are investigating the shooting of a scumbag suspect, maybe we might be able to look into the actual murder," Flynn said, not aggressively, yet pointedly. While she managed to keep a straight face through Provenza's ramblings about Chief Johnson's stance on all of it, Sharon was fighting an inner battle with herself. It felt as if she was just listening to herself rehashing the whole thing about this being her jurisdiction for the umpteenth time. Sometime she wondered why everyone was always so intent on taking her cases away from her. Wouldn't they be glad to go home to their families? Or girlfriends?

"That dead body over there is ours!" Provenza protested and she turned away from them with a sing song in her voice that she was channeling her nervousness into. "Not tonight!"

Conscious of a rambling Taylor on her heels, she made her way away from Flynn and Provenza, determined not to look back at them. She and Andy hadn't exchanged more than two sentences, but she felt ready to faint. She asked Taylor which hospital she was headed to and made for her car again, eager to be able to make it away from the scene before the full reality of it all caught up with her. It was too late, though, as the shock wore off and was replaced with decades-old dread as soon as she had reached her car. She placed one hand against the driver's door for support and took a deep, calming breath. No matter how she usually could, she was unable to fool herself right now. Cutting someone out of your life and burying yourself in the other aspects of it, your children, work, church, your friends, only worked if you were not in denial. And in denial Sharon had obviously been for seventeen years. If all it took to make her falter was one glimpse of Andy Flynn, she had to admit to herself, she was not over what had happened. A small part of her had known all along that it had been wrong not to tell anyone about Andy. He was still her secret after all those years. Jack didn't know of his existence, Lizzie had never met him and Tom only vaguely remembered a friend from work visiting them from time to time. Not even Gavin knew and they had told each other everything about their love lives despite that. Andy, however, had been locked up inside her along with the pain of losing him ever since that night when she'd last talked to him.

After leaving his house all those years ago, she had wiped her tears away, corrected her eye make-up and had gone home to Jack and her children. She had tiptoed into Tommy's room and had kissed his sleeping form goodnight and had given Lizzie a midnight feeding before she'd climbed under the covers with Jack. Sharon had slept with him for the first time that night ever since Lizzie had been conceived and she'd found herself feeling numb and alone afterward, even though Jack was holding her tenderly, whispering his love into her ear. Sharon swallowed. If she had been able to lock her feelings away for seventeen years, she would be able to continue doing so until this investigation was over.

"Excuse me?"

She whirled around at the familiar drawl and found Andy standing there. She was about to call him by his first name when she spotted Provenza standing by their car just a few yards away. Unsure how to address him in a semi-private situation like this, she settled for a simple "yes?". It was odd how eyes that had once been familiar always stayed familiar. She could still read Jack like an open book although his visits came far and in between and looking into Andy's eyes was a little bit like coming home. To an empty house, she reminded herself, as what they'd had had ended a long time ago. By her own choice.

"You've lost this." He opened his hand and held it out to her so she could see the small golden object there that she immediately recognized as one of her favorite earrings. Her hand came up to her earlobe as if on its own accord and found it bare, confirming that this was actually hers. She was about to ask him how he had known that it was when it struck her. She'd owned these earrings for a long time and as fate would have it, she had worn them to another scene seventeen years ago. She picked it up while trying to avoid her fingertips touching his skin. They did anyway.

"Thank you," she said. "That was very kind of you."

Now that he was so close, she could tell that he smelled the exact same way he had back then. She couldn't say whether he was still using the same cologne or whether it had never been the perfume in the first place, but the scent enveloped her and immediately catapulted her back to a different time. She shook her head to chase the memories away that were welling up like blood from a fresh cut.

"Well, your money is hard-earned, I guess," he said evenly. "Annoying others for a living and all."

He turned away and walked towards Provenza before Sharon had a chance to retaliate. She watched his retreating back and Provenza's condescending smirk but felt oddly comforted. While she would have liked for him to stay just a little longer, she was also a little grateful that he had left. The sharp end of the earring dug into her palm until it drew blood and she welcomed the sting and a moment later the sensation of a few drops of warm blood pooling inside her fist.

She didn't make it home for the end of the movie that night and she hardly stopped by for dinner the one after. Dealing with the notoriously difficult Brenda Leigh Johnson was even harder than she had expected, but at least the conflict had taken her mind off Andy for the time being. Now, however, that she was comfortably curled up on her couch with a book in her lap and a glass of wine in her hand, she couldn't shake off the feeling that seeing Andy again had opened something up inside her. Her administrative position and rank had allowed her to get off early so she was once again awaiting Lizzie already when she came in the door. Her daughter looked to be in a much better mood today as she discarded her ballet bag by the door and hung her jacket in the hallway. Her hands in her jeans pockets, she wandered into the living-room.

"What's for dinner?" she asked, famished as usual after a hard round of practice. Lizzie had the gift of a naturally lean body and had never needed to watch her weight even for ballerina standards which Sharon was very grateful for.

"I haven't decided yet," she said, setting her book aside. "Any preferences?"

Lizzie sat down opposite her mother in one of the armchairs. "Can you make the tomato sauce?"

Sharon smiled and nodded, suddenly choked up. "The tomato sauce" was a term that never had to be specified as her children loved the recipe she had once been taught by Andy. "Maybe I should teach you how to make it," she said. "You don't have much time left until you go away for college."

"Mom, you old sap! It's still a year away!" Lizzie protested. "Don't you tear up now!"

Sharon chuckled as she rose from her couch. "Don't flatter yourself. I can't wait to buy myself a neat little apartment in Los Feliz that isn't as much work as this house."

"Yeah, yeah," Lizzie cooed as she followed Sharon into the kitchen and took a can of soda out of the fridge. Sharon playfully shooed her aside and took the desired items out, methodically piling everything up next to the stove. It was a weird day, gloomy outside and the last sunlight of the day seemed to come through a filter that dipped everything in shades of ocher. She turned towards her daughter and took in her young, uncorrupted beauty. The little make-up she wore had worn off with the physical exertion and her hair that she wore in a strict bun for practice was falling around her face in soft strands now. Sharon looked into her eyes and tried to conjure up a mental image of Jack, but saw only Andy. He looked good with his salt and pepper hair and the new lines around his eyes. The boyish attitude was still there, even more out of place with age and alluring precisely because of that very fact.

"Did you see Sam today?" she asked as she rummaged through her pantry to find the right pan. Lizzie sat down on the table and swung her legs lightly.

"Yeah. It's all cool. He told me to keep his secret a little longer. Actually, he offered to tell the others that I dumped him because he wasn't smart enough for me."

Sharon grinned into her wine glass. "What did you say?"

"I told him to tell people the truth. Or at least part of it: That we're better off as friends. I mean, it never got to the point where we couldn't be friends anymore, right?"

"Yes," Sharon agreed, having to clear her throat and repeat what she'd said because her voice was cracking at the notion and what it had meant for her and Andy. Lizzie slid off the table and walked towards her mother, looking mildly worried.

"Are you okay, Mom?"

Sharon was of the firm belief that children should be children. Her daughter wasn't her best friend and she would not whine to her about her past regrets. Never would she tell her anything that would maneuver her into a position where she might feel she had to keep her mother's secrets from her father. Then again, she hardly ever spoke to Jack on the phone, let along see him in person. The stressful few days, the latent crisis with Major Crimes and most of all, the – if brief – reappearance of Andy Flynn in her life finally took their toll on her and she found herself giving the one dry sob that she always allowed herself as she was suddenly in Lizzie's arms. It still surprised her that the tiny girl that she had carried around, whose tears she had dried and whose hand she had held was now grown and mature enough to feel like a real lifeline.

"Come on, Mom. You can't fool me. Something's wrong with you and you don't usually cry over impertinent blond superior officers."

Despite herself, Sharon laughed into her shoulder. "No, it's not her."

Lizzie drew back and looked at her. "Then what is it?" she asked, not yet old enough to understand that sometimes demanding to know something wasn't the right course of action, even if the person in question was her own mother. Sharon was all too happy to indulge her, however, as suddenly, after all those years, she felt the need to get the old secret off her chest.

"This is something you might not want to know about me," she warned in a small voice. "I made a mistake years ago and I think it just came back to haunt me today."

"Mom, you're scaring me," Lizzie replied, only half-joking. She snatched Sharon's empty glass from the counter and carried it to the fridge where she poured her a generous helping of her favorite white despite her protest. "I know, the 'one-glass-on-a-weekday'-rule, but there is actually an exception to that called 'two-glasses-in-times-of-emotional-distress'."

Sharon shook her head. "I don't need alcohol to get through emotional distress, honey." She knew that her children needed at least one positive role model when it came to responsible drinking habits, but her daughter seemed to have enough faith in her to know that she was never in danger of developing an addiction. Most nights she preferred tea, anyway. Grudgingly accepting the offered drink, she led Lizzie to the table and leaned against the counter to take a long sip.

"There is this guy-" Realizing how cliched this beginning sounded, she cleared her throat and decided to start out differently. "You know, when I was pregnant with you, your dad and I went through a rough patch."

"When did you not?" Lizzie asked sarcastically, her disdain for her father showing so clearly that it made Sharon's heart ache, especially after seeing Andy again. All she had wanted to do was give her children a proper family and a chance to know her father and what had she chosen over Andy? More heartbreak. For all three of them.

"I met him through work," Sharon decided that it would be better to keep the details vague. The emotional core was what mattered here, not the exact circumstances. "I was alone and miserable and so was he. We became friends and-" She trailed off, her haze of emotions lifting for just a second to make her realize what she was about to do and why she had never done it before. Lizzie was the last person she was supposed to tell about this. She was the ultimate reason why she had given up Andy and if she told her that, she might feel guilty about it. Lizzie was smart but in many ways she was still too inexperienced to see that Jack was the one to blame. She blamed him plenty, that much was obvious, but like many children from a broken marriage, she sometimes seemed to think that things might have turned out differently due to something she'd done. It was a thought Sharon had worked hard to erase from her mind and she was not about to plant its seed again by telling her about her personal sacrifice that had turned out be ultimately meaningless.

"We've- we've lost touch when your father returned from rehab," she finished weakly. "I saw him again today and it struck me how far you can drift apart over time."

If Lizzie knew she was lying, she didn't show any signs of it. "Why wouldn't I want to know that about you?" she asked. "Did you break his heart or something?"

She had broken both of theirs in one act but she was not about to disclose that information.

"No," she said simply. "No, it wasn't like that. You know, people from FID, people from the rest of the force... that just doesn't work out in the long haul. I meant that I wouldn't win a popularity contest any time soon."

Lizzie pretended to be surprised. "Really, Mom? Tell me, did you slap that woman from Major Crimes with your 'I must go first speech' again?"

Sharon burst out laughing as she had indeed done just that. Lizzie shook her head.

"I knew it, you crazy old woman. Now show me how to make that tomato sauce so I can survive without you at some point in the distant future."

Sharon swallowed, the tight feeling in her chest resolved for now. She hadn't crossed paths with Andy Flynn for seventeen years, chances were that she wouldn't again for a while. Still, she resolved to tell Gavin about him at some point between margaritas number five and six when they were both past the stage where they still cared about keeping up appearances. After all, she had learned a lot of dirty details about Gavin's love life that way that she'd rather forget.

"Okay," she instructed. "Rule one: Always use olive oil. Extra virgin. No butter. Get it?"

"Yes Ma'am." Lizzie saluted. "How much?"

Two hours later, after having eaten and having shared a cup of tea, both shuffled upstairs to their individual bedrooms. When Tom had moved out, Lizzie had taken over his bedroom, while his things had been moved to her smaller one and in front of its door was where Sharon, emerging from the bathroom in her pajamas, kissed her daughter goodnight. She was almost back at the other end of the landing, her hand already outstretched towards her own door when Lizzie's head peeked out through the half-closed bathroom door.

"Mom?"

Sharon turned around and cocked her head. "Yes?"

"Tom and I do talk, you know."

Sharon shook her head in confusion. "I know, of course. So?"

Lizzie gave a devious grin. "If you would like to see Andy again, you probably should." And with that the door clicked shut behind her.

**A/N:** Thank you all SO MUCH for all of your lovely reviews! It broke my heart to write the last scene of chapter 8 and I am glad that I finally got started on the second part. I hope you liked it, too, and forgive me the slow pace. :)


	10. Part Ten

**[ Part Ten]**

**A/N:** I am SO sorry for the recent lack of updates. Real life was acting up. But here we go! As always, I'd love to read your thoughts on this. :)

Sharon listened to the dial tone, her heart heavy and her thoughts scattered. Maybe she was just being superstitious, but something told her that this meant something. That this would somehow change her relationship with her children forever, that the independence from her that they had gained would only be further cemented by what she was about to say. She swallowed, biting back sudden hot tears that were threatening to blur her sight and bring tremors to the hand holding the phone to her ear. Still nothing. Every second she had to endure the sound of the dial tone echoing inside her mind made waiting harder and drove home the fact that this was where she was left stranded for tonight: Someone else's desk in someone else's squad room, the delicious scents of Willie Rae Johnson's elaborate Southern Christmas dishes wafting in from the break room. She hadn't eaten in a while and her stomach chose that precise moment to remind her of that with a loud rumble.

Finally, she heard Tom greeting her at the other end of the line. He had a deep, pleasant voice that reminded her of his father's even though it lacked Jack's artificial jolliness, making it sound a lot more sincere.

"Honey," she greeted him fondly, unable to keep the impeding tears out of her voice. "Have you heard? The airport has been closed due to snow. No flights in or out until tomorrow." She trailed off, unable to actually say the words, leaving her son to draw the inevitable conclusion himself.

"So you won't make it tonight," Tom said softly. She bit her lip, waiting for him to admonish her for putting her job first. Her children weren't used to her working crazy hours and every time something came up, she was worried that they would hold it against her. "Wait. I'll put you on speaker phone so Lizzie can hear you, too." There was a small commotion of sound at the other end of the line, then her daughter's voice rang in her ear.

"Mom, I am so sorry that you can't be here." Having expected anger or accusations, Sharon felt the tight knot of pain dissolve in her chest. "What are you going to be doing for Christmas eve, then?"

Sharon cleared her throat, trying to keep her tone light and unbothered. "I don't know. Possibly order take-out and have an early night."

"That sucks," Tom grumbled. "Have you finally got around to straightening out that new condo of yours?"

Sharon thought of the many boxes awaiting her at home and almost gave a deep, pained sigh. Somehow she had conveniently forgotten about the fact that she would not only have to spend Christmas alone, but also in a new apartment that still smelled of fresh paint and was currently also a maze of boxes that she was yet to learn to navigate. Suddenly she felt in a rush, wanting to make sure to get to her favorite wine dealer before they closed down for the holidays.

"It's going to be okay," she tried to soothe her concerned kids. None of them had brought up the fact that, due to her parents' lack of skill in the cooking department, she had offered to cook the Christmas dinner or that her parents, though definitely softened with age, were a little snobbish about the time-share they'd acquired only recently and found slightly lacking when it came to the luxuries they were used to from their NYC town house. "I am really sorry," she said, hoping that her voice would not give out. "I didn't think this would take so long and everyone else is away from the holidays so I was on call. Things have been crazy here and-"

"You don't need to apologize, Mom!" Lizzie interrupted her. "We know that you would do anything in your power to be here with us. Remember that you do not control the weather."

"Yeah, because if you did you wouldn't have had to move to California in the first place," Tom added with a smile in his voice. "Just tell us when your flight comes in tomorrow and we'll pick you up."

"Thank you," she breathed, furtively wiping a tear from her eye when she spotted Provenza walking around the corner. The last thing she needed was for one of Major Crimes to see her cry over her ruined Christmas. He'd probably serve her a mean little comment that would make her feel even worse. "I love you guys. Please tell Mom and Dad I'm sorry, okay?" There was a small pause after they had assured her that things would be okay with their grandparents, then Sharon finally asked.

"Did your father call you? I invited him to come to Park City with us but he never texted back."

Lizzie gave a snort. "Yeah, right, Mom!"

"He didn't call," Tom elaborated. "He sent a goofy card from Las Vegas, though. A row of showgirls dressed up as Santa. Extremely classy. It only said 'Merry Christmas', so I guess he isn't coming."

Not for the first time, Sharon felt guilt welling up inside her for marrying Jack without noticing just how unreliable and self-centred her was. She said her goodbyes and hung up, finding herself faced with Flynn as she looked up from her phone again. Although they had seen quite a lot of each other during the past few months - or maybe because of it - their relationship was as distant and cold as it had ever been. He had accused her of being an emotionless ice queen when they'd been working on a case that had involved two officers killed and since then things had just gone more and more downhill. He was being downright rude and whenever she caught him looking at her from the corner of her eye, she was shocked at the morosity his eyes could convey. He did not seem to understand anymore what had once come easily to him: That she was just doing her job. That she did feel for the officers' families, that she wanted to clear their names, not smear them. She usually just ignored the Major Crimes squad's open hostility and their leader's juvenile behavior when it came to her, but faced with a lonely Christmas away from her children for the first time, it all came crushing down upon her. She hadn't seen Lizzie in weeks with her in college far away and the new condo, though comfortable and remodelled to exactly match her taste, still felt alien and empty to her. Weirdly, the first - and yet only - room she had finished so far was the guest room while her bedroom and living-room still looked like war zones.

"Still here?" Flynn asked gruffly, his eyes flitting down to her lap.

"About to leave," she replied, too weary to be combative or snippy.

"New boyfriend?" Flynn pointed at the gnome Sharon had unconsciously cradled to her chest at some point during the phone call. She looked down at the hideous object that she'd been drawing comfort from.

"Not my type," she mumbled back, earning - to her surprise - a dry chuckle. Though suddenly uneasy, she refused to let go of the little thing and when she next looked up, the grim expression had vanished from Flynn's face, having given way to the smallest of smiles. Their eyes met for a moment and his face fell then he turned away, murmuring an excuse for leaving under his breath.

* * *

"I did the marshmallows on that!" Sharon announced proudly, earning a somewhat desperate "they're kinda burned" that didn't annoy her as much as it could have. She was still far from being accepted by Major Crimes as one of their own and she was almost sure that she never would be, but she was okay sitting between Flynn and Provenza. Although her being invited by Willie Rae was more of a fluke, being due to Chief Johnson's inexplicably claiming that Sharon was her "friend", she didn't feel lonely and she didn't feel unwelcome. And most of all, she didn't feel pitied, because she wasn't the only one who had sought refuge in the Murder Room to escape a lonely Christmas Eve. She wasn't sure how she had ended up next to Flynn, but the rather civil way he handed her the dishes and held her plate out for Dr Morales to fill with turkey warmed her up from the inside. Maybe not all was lost. After all, he had even pulled her chair out for her like a true gentleman.

She pulled her phone out when it vibrated inside her pocket and found a message from Lizzie to which she had attached a picture of her and Tom holding glasses of wine and toasting the camera. She growled slightly, aware of the fact that her parents would never dream of enforcing the legal drinking age on their grandkids. She hadn't noticed that Flynn was looking at her and looked up at him when she heard him chuckle.

"Is that little Tommy?" he asked, a smile in his voice and her heart began to beat a little faster, this being the first time that he had as much as acknowledged that he knew her better than anyone else suspected. From the corner of her eye, she saw Provenza pouring wine for Willie Rae on his other side, so she placed the phone down on the table between hers and Flynn's plates.

"He goes by Tom nowadays," she said softly, feeling pride welling up inside her at the sight of her children smiling at her from the screen.

"And that's your little girl?" Andy asked. "She's beautiful."

"Thank you." Sharon suddenly felt flustered and switched off the screen, sliding the phone back into her pocket. She quickly began to eat, taking nervous sips of the excellent Merlot Chief Johnson's father had brought to the table. Before she knew it, Provenza had turned towards her, good-natured with the alcohol, his cheeks flushed.

"Another one, Captain?" he offered generously but she raised her hand to decline.

"No thank you, Lieutenant. I'll need to drive home later."

Provenza shrugged but then, to her complete surprise, Flynn chimed in. "Go ahead, have another. I'll drop you off at home later." She turned and looked at him, her heart suddenly fluttering in her chest. Had he really just offered to give her a ride?

"Are you serious?" she managed in a shaky breath.

"Sure. It's Christmas, after all."

She looked into his eyes and marvelled at the lack of hostility there before he smoothly turned away and started a conversation with someone else. Although hardly anyone talked to her, Sharon didn't feel out of place. Being here among them was a lot better than being alone. And the prospect of being alone with Andy for the first time in years made her giddy and anxious to leave as well as mortified. She looked around at the familiar faces, at Chief Johnson with her husband, and she felt just a small pang of jealousy at their trusty and loving relationship. All she felt for Jack, even at Christmas, was contempt. How could he have let her children down again? They deserved to have at least one of their parents with them at Christmas and all he had given them was a lousy postcard. And then there was Andy's shoulder just inches from hers, his hand next to her hers on the table, the scent of his aftershave lingering. She was feeling light-headed, suddenly unable to block his presence out of her mind. Maybe he had not been the only one who had initiated their antagonistic new relationship. Maybe she had been a little too forceful with him, a little too snippy. Maybe she had tried to avoid the feelings that were plaguing her now: Regret for making the wrong decision, a yearning for him and unspeakable grief for the loss she had brought on herself. Back then it had felt like the rational, the right thing to do. Now it just made her feel empty and alone.

She jumped when she felt his hand on her arm.

"I'm driving to San Diego to see my kids in the morning, so I guess I should head home now. Are you up for it?"

"Sure. Sure." She scrambled to her feet and said her goodbyes, her hands squeezed by both of Chief Johnson's parents who still believed her to be their daughter's friend. To keep up appearances, she was sure, the Chief awkwardly patted her arm before she left. Her throat was dry when she found herself in Andy's car ten minutes later, her handbag in her lap. The streets were empty and they were going at a steady pace, the lights of the night flitting past the windows. She turned to look at his profile, his features relaxed but his eyes awake and focused on the road. Maybe it was all the Merlot that Provenza had poured her, but she suddenly felt too hot, so she turned to the side and frowned at the air conditioning, trying to figure out which button did what.

"Too hot?" Flynn asked with a cheeky grin and leaned in to push the right button. A look of discomfort crossed his face and he laid a hand against his side where she remembered he had been stabbed not too long ago.

"Are you okay?" she asked softly.

"Yeah," he replied. "I'm alright."

There was more silence as he drove and she stared out into the night, now inconveniently shivering with the dropped temperature, but too proud to ask him to turn it up again. Suddenly something dawned on her and she turned, narrowing her eyes.

"Andy," she said. "Why did you call me first when you were stabbed?"

He showed no sign of surprise at her question and didn't even turn his head towards her. "I shot the dirtbag. FID needed to be involved. I just did what the rules say."

When did he ever? And in a strenuous situation like that? She remembered how worried she'd been while he'd been sitting there, propped up by a paramedic and how good and reassuring the warmth of his skin had felt under her fingertips. She had done her best to be as cooperative as possible in the investigation, wanting Chief Johnson to catch whomever had hurt Andy like that. She wasn't so sure how well she would have been able to uphold her professional conduct if she had been the one to interrogate the suspect. But then Andy had been so angry with her for interfering, still, and she had discarded her idea to call him up at home and check on him. It had been when she'd finally given up any hope that maybe they could once again be friends. Andy obviously disliked her and there was nothing she could do about it. And yet here they were, at Christmas Eve, sitting in his car by his own choice.

"I'm glad you called me," she said quietly. "I was so worried about you."

She wasn't sure why she suddenly had the strength to say it without being too worried about the outcome, but it felt good to finally let go.

"Is that the Merlot talking?" Andy asked, but his voice didn't convey the necessary sarcasm; instead he sounded a little unsure of himself.

"Hardly," Sharon responded somewhat defensively. They continued to drive in silence until they pulled up in front of her apartment complex. Just now she realized that he had never asked for directions to her new home and had safely delivered her to the right place nonetheless. For a moment they sat in uneasy silence as if they were both waiting for the other one to say something meaningful, then Sharon cleared her throat.

"Thank you for the ride. I hope you'll have a good time with Anna and Toby tomorrow."

With no excuse to look straight ahead, Andy finally looked at her.

"Thanks. You have a safe flight in the morning."

"I will. Thank you, Andy."

For a moment she looked at him, yearning to lean in and press her lips to his to see whether he would respond. But then she felt terrified of being pushed away, of finding out that his unconcealed hatred of her was not an act. How could she know that he was even single? Or still interested in a woman he'd briefly known years ago? Those thoughts made her feel foolish and ashamed of her desire. She was probably just afraid of going home to an empty condo at Christmas Eve.

"Anyway, see you," she said, feeling jittery and awkward.

"You, too." There was something in his gaze that she didn't recognize and suddenly she felt the urge to flee as tears were beginning to constrict her throat. She practically lurged out of the car, fumbling in her pocket for her keys, and hurried towards the door, feeling hollow and empty inside.

* * *

_Sharon was sitting on her son's bed, hands folded in her lap, feeling foolish as she watched him sleep, trying to calm herself down by pacing her breaths to his. Seeing the little girl's dead body at the morgue today had rattled her more than the initial shock had allowed her to realize and now she found herself unable to sleep and restlessly checking on her small son every few minutes. Nobody would steal him away tonight, she tried to convince herself. He was safe in his bed with the astronaut sheets and his favorite teddybear in his arms. Nobody would come through the rain, sneakily disable the alarm and kill her child in its sleep. And yet she felt alone and defenceless despite the loaded gun that was locked up in her nightstand for easy access. All the noises of the night startled her and even the steady patter of raindrops that usually lulled her to sleep easily seemed threatening tonight. Whenever a floorboard creaked inside the old house or the wind blew through the trees in the garden, she slid out of bed and practically ran into her son's room only to find him peaceful and undisturbed. _

_She wanted nothing more than to just curl up beside him and hold him as she had done numerous times just after Jack had moved out, but his new room being so much smaller than the old one, she'd been forced to buy a smaller bed and there was no way she would fit inside it with her ever-growing stomach. On the other hand, she didn't want to disturb his sleep for her selfish reasons by dragging him into her bed. Burying her face in her hands, Sharon tried to fight off the images that began to assault her as soon as she relaxed a little, invading her mind like sneaky intruders that had come to torture her. She rubbed her hand gently over Tommy's bare arm when the image of the girl's cold gray hand flew at her and tried to concentrate on the warmth of his skin. Then she placed her other hand against the restless kicks of her daughter, feeling guilty. Her little girl was definitely aware of the fact that she was upset and therefore unable to sleep herself. She slowly rose again, taking one last look at Tommy, when the doorbell rang._

_Sharon froze, every inch of her body on alert, hands trembling. Who would ring her doorbell in the middle of the night? An intruder would certainly not alert her to his presence, she rationalized. Jack? He was not due to come back for several months. What would she do if he had decided that rehab was not for him? She had neither the physical nor the emotional strength to reason with him tonight. Still, having him in the house would at least make her feel safe. Still in just her pajama bottoms and an old, oversized college t-shirt, she walked barefoot towards the door, peeking through the peep hole to find Andy along with a man she did not recognize. She removed the safety chain and opened the door to them, slightly embarrassed by her tousled hair and her state of undress. The man gave her a weary smile and extended his hand for her to shake. _

_"Hi, my name is Joel. I am so sorry to disturb you in the middle of the night. You must be Sharon."_

_She nodded, suddenly suspecting what must be wrong. Turning towards Andy, she found his gaze unfocused and his breath stinking of whiskey. Someone delivering a drunk man into her care in the middle of the night had not at all been an usual occurrence back when she had still been living with Jack and it gave her a thoroughly unwelcome sense of deja vu. _

_"Hey Sharon," Andy slurred and held on to the wall for support. _

_"Look, I wouldn't bother you if I knew what else to do. I am Andy's sponsor and I just picked him up at a bar. Tried to drive him home but he insisted we come here. Simply refused to get out of the car in front of his own home." Joel shook his head with regret and a fair bit of annoyance. "He is not angry, more sappy, actually, so he doesn't pose a threat to anyone."_

_Sharon had half-expected herself to be angry with Andy if he ever saw him drunk again, but being well-aware why he had felt the need to escape, she felt sad rather than furious._

_"Of course, Joel. You did the right thing." She gave him a tentative smile. "Can you just get him on to the couch? I'll go and get blankets and painkillers for him."_

_She rushed upstairs, quickly pulling everything she needed out of the cupboards and then decended the stairs again. She paused in the doorway when she saw Joel talking intently to Andy who was sitting on the couch with his hands folded in his lap, his head hung like a naughty child's. Neither of them had noticed her reappearance and she decided it best not to alert them to her presence just yet._

_"Look, Andy, I am not telling you again: You need to lie down and catch some sleep now, okay?"_

_"But I wanna sleep upstairs with Sharon," Andy mumbled with a sad expression. "She's so warm."_

_"You're staying here or I swear I'll take you with me and drop you off at the police station so they can lock you up until you're sober again."_

_Sharon cleared her throat and walked into the room, her arms full of blankets. Joel rushed to take them off her and she smiled. He was the kind of guy that instantly inspired trust for some reason that she could not quite put her finger on. Looking a little scruffy and in dire need of a haircut, he reminded her of a shaggy, but trustworthy old dog. Andy rose from the couch and stumbled towards Sharon so Joel could prepare the bed. His eyes were still dull and bloodshot, but they had assumed an unguarded, very tender expression._

_"Sharon," he said in a low voice that made her hope for a moment that he was coming to his senses after all. He then reached out his hand and placed it against the side of her belly, rubbing it slightly. "Baby alright?"_

_Joel rolled his eyes in the background and straightened up, grabbing Andy's arm to lead him back to the couch._

_"Take off your shoes, Andy," he commanded him before he turned back to Sharon. "I am really really sorry to put this on you."_

_"It's okay," Sharon said truthfully. "I am his friend. I am happy to take care of him."_

_"I'll leave you my number just in case he does anything stupid. I don't live far from here so I can be there in under twenty minutes, okay?"_

_"Okay. Thank you," Sharon replied. "I think I can take it from here."_

_After seeing him to the door, she took a detour through the kitchen before she returned to the living-room where Andy had obediently taken his shoes off and was now reclining against the cushions, looking as pensive as he was capable of in his state of drunkenness. He looked up when she entered and shuffled to the side in order to make room for her on the couch. She followed his invitation and set the two bottles of water she was carrying down in front of him on the coffee table._

_"I won't let you sleep before you've downed these, so you better get it over with. And take these." She motioned for him to extend his hand towards her and dropped two advils into his open palm. Andy did as he had been told and took the pills along with several gulps of water. He set the bottle down when it was almost empty and reached around her, pulling her into him with surprising care. She closed her eyes when her head came to rest against his shoulder, suddenly feeling her own exhaustion. Andy buried his face in her hair and despite his drunken state, she enjoyed it. Somehow the situation even made her feel free and a little careless since she was almost sure that he would remember none of it in the morning. It was a little bit like being in a dream or a fantasy, knowing that her actions wouldn't have consequences. Andy was just a friend and yet she had to keep reminding herself of the fact that she had a husband when she was around him. She liked the way he looked at her and the way the skin around his eyes crinkled when he smiled. Not to mention that she found him very attractive and his boyish charms interesting. And most importantly: He made her laugh. She felt Andy's free hand come up and for one horrifying second she worried that he would try to seduce her, but then he just placed his shaking hand over hers that was resting on her belly._

_"Won't let anything happen," he murmured. "Keep you safe."_

_For a moment she didn't know what he was talking about, but then she realized that he was trying to tell her that he would try to protect her and her children from harm. He, too, was affected by today's events and not even the alcohol had been able to take away those thoughts of the murdered child. She suddenly felt so connected to him in his raw, afflicted condition that she almost didn't mind his intoxication anymore. In a way it even made him more open, hinting at the fact that he must usually be very guarded around her. But what was it about him that he felt he had to hide from her? Sharon snuggled into his side and wrapped her arms around him._

_"Just don't do this again, okay, Andy? I don't want you drunk," she whispered._

_"Sorry," he mumbled back, pulling her into his chest. "You smell great," he informed her, still slurring slightly. "and you feel even b- better."_

_Sharon gave a low chuckle, aware of his scent through his crumpled clothes, not obscured by the smell of alcohol. She knew that if she allowed him to hug her any longer, she might do something that she would regret, so she began to pull back. Andy let her go and leaned back on the sofa as he was told, letting her pull the blankets over him. Before she could leave, he tugged at her sleeve._

_"Sharon?"_

_"Yes, Andy?"_

_For the first time since he had crossed her threshold tonight, Andy's gaze was almost clear. "I love you. So much."_

* * *

She had just changed out of her work clothes and into her pajamas and padded into the kitchen to pour another glass of wine, her hands still shaking and her heart racing from all those feelings that were welling up again when she was alone with Andy. Maybe she had just buried them all those years and had never granted herself a true chance to get over him. Or maybe he was still just her type after all of these years. She couldn't get the image of his lips out of her mind, couldn't forget his scent that was so prominent in the confined space of his car. She carried her glass over to the sofa, carefully rounding several boxes to avoid stumbling and spilling some of her drink.

Still, the glass easily slipped through her fingers at the sound of the doorbell ringing through the apartment.


	11. Part Eleven

[ **Part Eleven** ]

Sharon opened the door and there stood Andy Flynn, currently in the process of running a nervous hand through his salt and pepper hair. His tie was askew, looking as if he had been unsuccessfully pulling at it to get it off earlier, his jacket was unbuttoned. How on earth had he managed to turn himself into such a mess in the course of fifteen short minutes? Sharon was acutely aware of her own state, her make-up removed and her simple dark blue satin pajamas expensive but not exactly flattering. He looked almost surprised when she appeared in front of him although, obviously, there was no other place for her to be right now. Mixed with the excitement and awkwardness of the situation, she almost didn't feel the little tug at her heart at the idea of being separated from her children on this day. He didn't smile when he pointed at her little suitcase whose handle his fingers were wrapped around a little too firmly.

"You forgot this one in my car," he said, his voice a lot more quiet than usual, almost subdued and her mouth suddenly felt dry. Being so eager to get away from him, she had completely forgotten about her baggage. And what irony that Andy Flynn, emotional baggage personified, would be standing here, uncomfortable as hell, delivering it to her. It also meant that he hadn't come back for her and that, too, pained her.

"Oh, thank you so much!" she exclaimed in an attempt to be polite enough to mask her own uneasiness. Erratic as she could be when she felt out of her comfort zone, she reached out quickly to grab the handle from him. Unprepared for her sudden movement, he didn't remove his own hand from it soon enough and their fingers collided gently, her fingertips sliding over the open palm of his hand. Her heart was racing now, leaving absolutely no uncertainty as to whether she was just lonely on Christmas Eve or still ridiculously attracted to Andy Flynn. She couldn't tell from the look on his face what he was feeling, but he didn't look especially happy with what had just occurred, his eyes dark and glazed over with something she was unable to identify. He most probably thought that touching The Wicked Witch in any way would expose him to horrible illness. "I totally forgot," she added weakly, stepping aside slightly. Andy's eyes darted around the room, probably evading hers who were trying to catch his gaze. She turned slightly found that he was taking in the broken glass on the floor, the puddle of white wine and the boxes that sat on every available surface.

"Didn't get a chance to unpack yet?" There was something new to his voice that she found startling as it sounded suspiciously like nostalgia. Turning fully around, she saw the mess through his eyes and heaved a sigh.

"Exactly. I was trying to finish all the paperwork so I could take a week off without a guilty conscience." She shrugged. "I'll take care of it when I get back."

A small grin appeared on Andy's face. "You have a beautiful view from up here. Why would you put the couch over there? You'll have your back to the windows."

She sighed again, leaning slightly into the doorway. "It's new. The people from the furniture store put it there. It's really too heavy to move by myself, so I am waiting for my neighbor to come back from his vacation."

He finally allowed their eyes to meet and smirked. She hadn't seen that smirk in years and it filled her head with images of him waking up next to her in the morning, looking at her like that.

"It would probably be very impolite if I didn't offer to help you with it, right?" He sounded almost weary.

Sharon gave a little hum that sounded tortured even to her own ears. As composed as she could appear on the outside in any given situation, those little hums always escaped her. "It's okay, really. I will have to move a few boxes away before there is even space to drag that thing to the other end of the room."

"Hm," he said, a look of indecision crossing his face, and his hand twitched as if he was trying to repress the urge to run it through his hair again.

She wasn't sure what the hell she was doing when she opened her mouth, taking a deep breath before asking. "But you did bring me my luggage. Would you accept a cup of coffee as a thank you?" For a second he looked as if he was going to turn on his heel and run away, then he shrugged with what looked forced nonchalance.

"I can't stay long, though."

Sharon was glad that he wandered into the living-room right away so he had no chance of seeing her shaking hands as she closed the door behind him. Internally admonishing herself to get a grip on her emotions, she followed him and busied her hands with the coffee maker. His outline looked so familiar against the nightly lights, both hands shoved into the pockets of his trousers. He only came out of his reverie when she crouched down next to him to clean up the shattered glass.

"What is that about?" he asked.

"You startled me." Sharon disposed of the pieces of glass and the soaked paper towels. If she was being honest, he still startled her every time he looked at her. He didn't apologize, just looked back at the sky. Sharon poured them both mugs of coffee and when she turned around, he found his eyes on her, his expression void. She found it almost upsetting that she was now completely unable to read him. Andy Flynn, resident hothead, who always wore his heart on his sleeve, seemed cool and withdrawn today. She held the coffee out to him and blew the steam off her own.

"You're taking it black nowadays," Andy remarked after taking a sip of his own. She was puzzled at first, then she remembered that she used to have milk in it years ago.

"It's acquired taste, really. Raising two kids on your own and working full time will teach you that." She trailed off towards the end of her sentence, now suddenly aware that she was venturing into rather dangerous territory. Andy turned away abruptly, maybe because he wasn't interested in her tales or maybe because he didn't want her to see his face. She now regretted choosing her big mugs as it seemed to take much too long to finish the coffee with the awkward silence that hung between them.

"You can see pretty far from outside," she said quickly, trying to cover up the tension with a bit of cheerfulness, but it sounded forced even to her own ears. "Do you want to check it out?"

"Sure." Andy sounded like one of her bored teenagers which did nothing to take her nervousness away. Regretting her offer already, she opened the patio doors and stepped outside, grateful for the soft slippers on her feet. It was cold but not uncomfortably so and the wind that had been blowing all day was quiet now, leaving the air peaceful and calm. She heard Andy's shoes on the wooden floor behind her. Encouraged by the sound, she crossed the small balcony and leaned against the rail, looking down. They stood in silence for a moment.

"It wasn't easy to sell the house," she said softly. "but with both of my children in college, I would have felt lonely there, so I decided to try a fresh start."

He replied with a gruff snort that could have been appraising or understanding both. His silence and withdrawn behavior were beginning to unnerve her and the stark contrast to her longing for him made being in his presence almost unbearable. They had been sipping their coffees in silence for a while when she couldn't contain her shiver anymore. It was winter, after all, and her light silk pajamas were no match for the cold night air. She almost dropped her second drinking vessel for the night when she felt his hand on her back, high enough to be decent and low enough to feel slightly intimate, rubbing her back. She leaned into the touch, working hard to repress a deep sigh. If she was honest with herself, the touch would have warranted a moan. Her muscles were tense from the stress the previous days had inflicted on her and she thought back to all the times he had rubbed her back and shoulders when she'd been carrying Lizzie. It seemed like a thousand years ago and so much had happened since then, so the familiarity of the touch surprised her. She looked up at Andy, searching his face for a clue as to how he was feeling, but found none.

"Andy," she croaked, willing him to look at her. To really look at her. Working with him from time to time the previous year, he had never seemed to actually see her. He'd always either looked past her or through her, his eyes boring into hers with angry intensity but still inexplicably out of focus. She realized this only now and at least it made the nagging feeling go away. He turned his head, but not far enough for the shadows to leave his face. His hand slid off her back.

"Maybe we should go back inside."

Sharon was both disappointed and oddly relieved at his words and she nodded, leading the way back into the living-room. When she had turned around from closing the windows, she caught him schooling his features just in time to conceal whatever expression he had been watching her with. She studied his face for a moment. The new lines, the familiar eyes and she grew uneasy almost immediately when she found him studying hers as well. Eighteen years were a long time and she was no longer thirty or forty. Or even fifty exactly. Her glasses and make-up still did a good job of hiding the signs of her age, but sans them she felt bare and naked. She almost shrank back with surprise when he reached out to cup her face but then she froze, his eyes now soft. The reappearance of that familiar expression after all this time almost made her sigh in relief.

"You're still so beautiful, Sharon." That said, he leaned down and captured her lips in a firm, demanding kiss. He wasn't as gentle as he used to be but she found his force even more arousing. Encouraged by his slight groan, she inched closer to him and wrapped her arms around him, pulling him against her. His body felt a little different, yet painfully familiar, as if the imprint of it had never really faded. Sharon ran her hands down his back and up again while he did the same, all the while kissing her with little bites thrown in that made her wince every time. His hand slid from her back to her breast, his thumb flicking over her nipple once, sending a shiver down her spine. Her last time kissing a man had been years ago and she was surprised how quickly her body reacted to Andy's touch. She tried to say something, to murmur it against his lips, but he didn't seem to want to hear it because he kissed her harder, making it impossible to say anything without pulling back and breaking the kiss. Sharon decided that she didn't care. There was nothing to be said anyway and relieving the tension that had been building all evening seemed like the most promising alternative. He didn't allow for her to get the upper hand or to steer him towards her bedroom. Instead he lowered her down onto the couch and began to undress her, all the while never breaking the kiss. She reached out to remove his tie but then abandoned the task in favor of his belt when he began to move against her, making her gasp with pleasure.

She knew that this would not be the slow, gentle lovemaking she was accustomed to from seventeen years ago. This was demanding and raw. Somehow he seemed angry. Maybe with her or maybe with himself and it ruled his bearings without actually making him seem aggressive. It felt more desperate than that and she was more than willing to go along with it. He buried his face in her neck when he came, biting down on her shoulder but not hard enough to actually cause her too much pain then kissed the spot, flicking his tongue out.

Sharon was out of breath when they stilled, feeling relieved and satisfied and still scared of what would happen next. Andy lifted his head from her shoulder, looking into her eyes, still panting. She was surprised to see actual disappointment in his eyes and she wondered where it came from. Andy squeezed his eyes shut and got off her, leaving her to shiver with the cool air on her naked skin as he grabbed his clothes and dressed.

"Are you okay?" she asked, pulling her blanket over herself to cover up her body. She suddenly felt self-conscious under his gaze and with sudden clarity she knew that what she thought had been the end of their dilemma had been the complete opposite.

"Yeah," he replied, his voice gravely. His gaze softened for a moment when he added: "I'm sorry."

"For what?" she asked him, her heart sinking while a feeling of dread made its way up her throat.

"We shouldn't have-"

"Why?" she interrupted him, unwilling to let him take the lead again. She had enjoyed his forceful way of seducing her, but she would not let him get away with this.

"The past is the past, Sharon. We should let it rest."

She grabbed his sleeve and forced him to sit down on the couch again, not caring whether he was uncomfortable or not. He ran both of his hands through his hair while she wrapped the blanket more firmly around herself, not about to have this conversation while he was fully dressed and she was completely naked.

"You kissed me first," she reminded him gently. "I wasn't aware how you felt about this or I wouldn't have let it happen."

The mask was pulled away from his face when he turned it towards her, pain suddenly shining from his eyes. She knew that this was not the time to be especially rational so she just pulled him into her and ran her palm over his cheek.

"What is it, Andy?" she whispered, kissing his temple.

"I've spent so much time trying to get over you, Sharon. I don't want it to start again." She didn't know whether to feel devastated or hopeful at his words and the tone he had said them in.

"But you can't leave me like this," she said calmly, allowing a little bit of humor to creep into her voice. "Naked on my couch like this."

Apparently it had been the right thing to say, because Andy's face relaxed, his features now just short of a smile. Encouraged by his positive reaction, she took his hand in hers and squeezed it. "It would make me feel a little cheap." She now grinned at him and inched closer, running the back of her free hand over his cheek. "Would you watch a sappy movie with me? I have cookies and I have hot chocolate."

For a moment he looked taken aback by her reaction but then he nodded slowly, his hand just inches away from caressing her face before he pulled it back. Something about Andy Flynn had changed since she'd last been close to him, Sharon thought. He wasn't as open anymore, somehow he, too, had resorted to locking his emotions away and numbing himself against pain. It hurt her to be the reason he had shut down, even eighteen years later. Andy pulled away from her and for a second she was worried that he would leave anyway, but he picked up her pajamas and handed them to her with a tentative little grin. Sharon stretched and reached for the remote. At least she had already unpacked her television set. Handing him the device, she rose from the couch and padded into the bathroom naked, pajamas in hand. Pausing in the doorway, she turned around again and found him looking after her.

"Staring?" she asked teasingly.

"Maybe a little," Andy replied and she chuckled before she went into the bathroom. She came back wearing yoga pants and a tank top a few minutes later, still in the process of wrapping her favorite black cardigan around her shoulders. Andy was in her kitchen, preparing the hot chocolate. He turned around when she came in, still looking a little nervous but a lot happier than before. He wasn't wearing his tie or jacket and had not put his shoes back on. His hair was still ruffled from when she had clawed into it earlier. She accepted the two mugs and fetched the cookies from the cupboard them led him back towards the couch.

The television was muted and Andy reached out to put up the volume but she caught his hand just in time.

"Andy," she said quietly, commanding his attention at once. He looked slightly worried, obviously unsure what to expect. "How did you know where I live?"

"Didn't you tell me the address when we left the office?" he tried half-heartedly, but they both knew that he was lying.

"No," she insisted. "I also never gave you my cell phone number and yet you called me on it after you were stabbed."

Andy looked almost pained now and she didn't understand why. She raised both brows to get him to answer. Andy just fixed his eyes on the television and grabbed hold of the remote before she could prevent it.

"Guess I just kept track of you over the years," he mumbled before he put the volume up, positively drowning out whatever she might have said. Sharon didn't really understand, but she also knew that there was no use in insisting. He wouldn't say a thing. The old Andy would have blurted it out, the new one would hide behind sarcastic comments until she gave up. So Sharon surrendered, contending herself with the knowledge that she would find out one day if she kept on looking into it. Leaning back, she made sure her shoulder connected with Andy's when she settled into the cushions. He made no move to touch her, but having him here was enough for the moment.

* * *

"_It's okay, Gavin." Sharon spoke into the phone while carefully prying the drawn curtains apart. "I just spoke to my Captain. They found fingerprints on the letters, so chances are that they'll catch whomever sent them soon." She looked out into the night, the wet street glistening in the lights of the streetlamps, the rain having slowed down to a slight drizzle. _

"_Honey, I can come over. It is no problem at all," Gavin cooed at the other end of the line. "I just don't feel comfortable with you and your toddlers all alone while there is someone after you."_

_Sharon chuckled despite herself. "First of all, Gavin, Tommy is not a toddler. He is almost six. And secondly, my Captain dispatched someone to watch the house. Nice little unmarked car sitting right opposite my window. I should be safe for now."_

_She let go of the curtain and sat down on the couch, reaching for her cup of tea. Wine might have been more effective in calming her nerves, but she would not do anything that would numb her senses as long as someone was threatening her and her family. Over the course of the last week, three letters had arrived, written in an angry scrawl that spoke of fury and violence rather than careful planning. Whoever had written them had accused her of purposefully dragging a dead officer's name through the mud while threatening to harm her and family. Sharon suspected that they had been written by someone close to the officer who had been caught in a standoff a few weeks ago. At first, everyone had been horrified by his death, but her investigation had brought to light that the shooter had been an angry drug trafficker whom the officer in question had screwed for money in a heroin deal. Emotions throughout the LAPD had been running high and someone from the man's squad had yelled at her for five minutes straight before he was ready to accept that his trusted friend was a crooked cop. Whoever was writing the letters, her Captain had assured her that they would find him. A black and white, he had insisted, would scare him away if he decided to show up at Sharon's house, but she was glad that, apparently, her boss had given in to her request to send an unmarked car not to upset her neighbors._

"_If I wasn't so worried about my manicure, I'd punch Jack in the face," Gavin announced at the other end of the line, only half-joking. "Taking another one of those long 'vacations' in Las Vegas when he should be there with you, protecting the kids."_

_Sharon sighed and leaned back into her sofa cushions, feeling the long day catch up with her._

"_Even if he was in town, I wouldn't want him here, Gav. He might have traded alcohol in for gambling, but he is as self-centered and careless as he ever was. You know what happened last time he watched the kids."_

_A growl met her through the line and she smiled, touched by the fact that her friend was so angry on her behalf. It felt good to have someone in her corner again and with Gavin, fortunately, sleeping with her best friend and ruining everything was not an option._

"_You mean when Lizzie almost fell down the stairs because he was too busy talking to his bookie on the phone to watch her."_

_Sharon had been home early from her weekend shift that day. Otherwise Lizzie would have tumbled down the stairs to the basement as Jack had not only left the door askew, but had also turned his back to her for who knew how long. Of course he had been apologetic as usual, but Sharon wasn't fooled anymore. They were separated now and Gavin was helping her file to make it legal, too. He was also urging her to get a divorce, but something kept her. She was the unfaithful one, after all, and divorcing the husband she had cheated on while carrying his baby seemed a little too much. Even if he didn't know about it._

"_You need to divorce the prick, babe. I am still at the office, I can file it right away-"_

"_Gavin," she interrupted him. "You shouldn't be at the office anymore. You have your big day in court tomorrow and I will not let you ruin it by not getting enough sleep."_

"_You're no fun, Sharon," Gavin pointed out, making her smile yet again. The man always knew how to cheer her up even through the worst of times. She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. _

"_I told you I'll be fine." There was a knock at the door and Sharon tensed, her hand reaching for her service weapon that was fastened to her hip, disguised by her soft sweater so her children wouldn't be able to catch a glimpse at it while she made them dinner and sang them to sleep. _

"_What was that?" Her own alarm was echoed in Gavin's voice. _

"_Sergeant Raydor?" A familiar voice called. It was someone she knew, but not well so it took her a moment to recognize the uniformed cop's voice. "It's the LAPD. Just checking on you on Captain Shawn's orders!" _

_Sharon let out the breath she was holding. "It's just my babysitter," she almost giggled with relief. _

"_Okay, I'll leave you to him, but only hang up once you're sure it's your babysitter, okay?"_

"_Okay, Mom," Sharon replied. "Thank you, Gavin," she added affectionately. "Drop by tomorrow after court, will you?"_

"_I wouldn't even if you didn't want me to," Gavin replied. "Bye, honey. Call me if you're lonely or scared. I'll grab my machete and come over."_

_She chuckled again, her hand already on the front door. She opened it and looked into the familiar face of a young, friendly officer. Disconnecting the call, she opened the door fully. The young man was barely out of his teens, she thought, taking in his curly hair and round face. _

"_Good evening, Sergeant. I'm just here to make sure you know we're right over there." He pointed at a black and white squad car sitting right in front of her front yard. "There is no reason to worry. We've got you covered all night."_

"_Thank you, Billy," she said, opting for his first name just because she was so grateful for his presence. Talking to Gavin had calmed her down, but she still felt jittery and worried. Suddenly his smiling face blurred and went out of focus as her eyes were now trained on the unmarked car on the other side of the road. She tensed again, her body fully on alert. A squad car. When Shawn had sent a black and white police cruiser. The one harassing her, after all, was not unlikely to be a police officer. She knew that and Billy knew it, too. The young man turned around and followed the direction of her gaze, his hand on his belt to either call for back-up or reach for his gun. The second he turned, though, the car went into gear and sped off, the number plates indistinguishable in the dim light. _

_Sharon did her best to hide her shock, slowly backing into the door to be able to quickly excuse herself and check on her sleeping children upstairs. Billy nodded in understanding when she did so, gesturing for her to relax. As she headed upstairs, she heard his police radio crackle and then his voice: "I think we need back-up at Sergeant Raydor's house. Looks like someone is keeping track of her."_

* * *

It took a moment until Andy's eyes focused on Sharon and the cup of coffee she was holding out to him.

"What time is it?" he croaked, running his palm over his face and yawning. Sharon smiled at the sight.

"Five thirty. My airline just called. I can take the first flight at eight to Salt Lake City." He looked as if he was only just remembering that it was Christmas morning. "Merry Christmas," she said softly.

"Merry Christmas," he replied, rubbing the back of his neck and glancing around the living-room. "Did I pass out during the movie?"

She took a seat next to him on the couch and nudged his side. "You did. I had to finish it by myself."

"Life of Brian came on at eleven thirty and you expected me not to fall asleep after Mrs Johnson's huge dinner?" He sounded almost irritated as he sipped from his mug. She didn't reply, just drank her own coffee, thoughtfully gazing at the view she hadn't quite gotten used to yet.

"You know," Andy said carefully. "I guess as of now your couch has been christened."

She gave him a small, telling smile. "Because we had sex on it?"

Andy suddenly looked serious again, slightly uncomfortable even. "Because I slept on it. Just like old times."

Sharon pressed her lips together and nodded; his lack of an expression following his statement did nothing to soften the blow. On the one hand she was grateful that he had just referenced their previous relationship and the bond they had once shared, on the other hand he had just very clearly told her that he wanted to be her friend, not her lover.

"I guess I have to go now. Have to change clothes before I head to San Diego." He got to his feet and she followed him to the door, noticing that he collected his tie and jacket in passing and without slowing down, then slipped into his shoes in a hurry. He turned around to face her, the door already open. His eyes were void again, the familiar veil back in place.

"See you," he said.

"See you," she answered the closed door.

**A/N**: Yay, I finished another chapter! I'll try to post as much as I can, but real life throws a lot of work at me lately. Poor Sharon, getting friendzoned. Now I will have to find time to write again soon. :-)


	12. Part Twelve

**[ Part Twelve ]**

Sharon heaved a quiet sigh and ran her hand across her face, conscious of the make-up now sticking to her palm and trying to remember to wash her hands so she wouldn't stain her black suit. Make-up stains were the worst, she thought with more apprehension than the notion warranted. Mere water would never get them off and while they might not be too visible on a gray or brown suit, they were absolutely disastrous on a black one. She was already having a tough enough time getting her things to the dry cleaners and back on a regular basis, having to monitor the Major Crimes squad almost constantly. She shook her head when she finally realized how much attention she was paying to what were really the smallest of her problems when Gavin was in the middle of the Murder Room, delivering a speech on how he would win the case against Brenda even despite the leak no one wanted to acknowledge existed. Despite everything, she found herself smiling. Watching him made her feel energized. He looked so confident, so in his element. The little show he was putting on actually belonged in a court room, not a squad room, but it was impressive either way. Instead of sliding her hands into her pockets as she liked to do when she was feeling confused or simply had to focus a little harder than usual, she placed her right hand in her neck and massaged it lightly. Being in FID wasn't exactly proper preparation for car chases and their outcomes. Sharp turns might look great to onlookers, but were really a hazard on the neck muscles. Sharon had been tense all through it and how she had managed to shoot their suspect right between the eyes with her beanbag gun was a mystery even to her. While she liked target practice and had always been a talented shooter, she wouldn't have expected to be this good in a charged situation like that.

Having Gavin here was more of a relief than she would have ever expected. Their paths crossed often in their lines of work, but knowing that there was someone here who liked her helped her forget about her dilemma: She had to admit that she was dreading walking in there so much nowadays that sometimes she had to will her feet to continue walking. Being in FID, she was used to antagonism from her fellow officers, but this squad was equipped with two people she hated getting it from. One of them was Brenda Leigh Johnson, the other was Andy Flynn. While the Chief's often downright obtrusive behavior and snippy attitude should have enraged her, her grudging respect for the other woman always held her back. She of all people knew how hard it was for women to thrive in a still rather male environment like this one and Chief Johnson's success despite her decidedly girly looks and, sometimes, behavior fascinated her. And then there was her hardheadedness, the way she liked to bend and break the rules and always got away with it. Where Sharon was trying to not give anyone a reason to be able to find fault in her and diminish her work as an officer, Brenda just didn't care. Although it shouldn't, it made her secretly admire the other woman for her boldness.

And then there was Andy. They had managed to meet up for one civilized but strangely awkward dinner that had been ended prematurely by a call to a crime scene that Andy had received before she'd been commanded to investigate the major crimes division. Where she had hoped a friendship or even something more might blossom, the same old disdain had filled up all available space. Andy was just as distant as all the other people on the squad and while she didn't mind them, every time he wouldn't meet her eyes, she felt a pang of pain surging through her. Truth was, she missed him. How she had gone without him for seventeen years was beyond her when now it took only five months to make her go crazy. Maybe it was the fact that they were now constantly crossing paths or maybe it was the absence of two loud children and a struggling husband in her home, but she found herself thinking about him more often than not. She hated being dependent, even if it was just because she felt so strongly for someone who wasn't actually in her life and it hurt.

Gavin finished his speech and walked out with flourish, so she followed him, eager to use his dramatic entrance to be able to vanish without further ado, too. She needed a hot bath and something to eat, maybe a glass of wine or a cup of tea. Something to take the edge off, make the pain go away. She willed herself not to look at Andy who was perched on a desk, looking attractive in his suit and tie, eyes alert and following her. It was unnerving how he would never look her in the eye while she felt his eyes on her more often than not. Gavin was waiting in front of the set of elevators with a self-satisfied smirk and turned around smoothly when the sound of Sharon's heels clicking on the floor signaled her arrival.

"How was I?" he asked her with an elegant little wave.

"Perfect, as usual," she replied with a smirk of her own, feeling instantly relaxed in the presence of her old friend.

"We'll figure this whole thing out, honey," Gavin told her, once again reading her like an open book, recognizing how tense she was in a heartbeat. "and then you can leave here and leave that Flynn behind. He is not that attractive, you know."

She smiled back at her friend, soothed by his low, calming voice. She had broken down after Christmas and had told him the whole story, including their little episode on her new couch. Maybe it had been the bottle of red wine they'd shared or maybe her bottled-up feelings, but she had felt ready to cry midway through but only actually allowing herself to when Gavin had told her to come to Uncle Gavin and snuggle up against his chest for a while. It was good to have someone in the know, someone in her corner who understood her and her motives for screwing everything up royally. He was even a little apprehensive of Andy, which she found cute even though it was completely uncalled for.

"I'd love to take you out for drinks now, Princess," Gavin said earnestly, making her smile grow wider at the once dreaded nickname. So far they had managed to keep their private relationship well out of the office and she should have cringed at the usage of it around here, but after the day she'd had she was well beyond caring.

"Why not? I could use a nice salad and a glass of white," she said, still hopeful that he would change his mind.

"Oh, if you want to. I just guess there's someone else fawning over you tonight."

"Excuse me?" Sharon asked, confused by his behavior. What on earth was he talking about?

"Hello! Excuse you!" Gavin was pretending to be offended. "Did you see how your Flynn was looking at you back there?" She was grateful that at this hour, the anteroom was blissfully empty, but maybe he wouldn't have spoken like that if it hadn't been. "You beanbag gun stunt is an instant legend, I can assure you. Heard a group of officers going on about it when I arrived earlier."

"It was a lucky shot," she insisted, aware that she sounded a little stubborn. Gavin touched her shoulder.

"Oh, yeah, Princess. An accident almost!" He grinned. "You're not fooling me. Anyway. I have got to run." The elevator doors opened in front of him as if on cue.

"Why the hurry, Gavin?" she asked, a little annoyed now. He leaned in as if to kiss her cheek but then whispered in her ear instead. "Because someone's here to talk to you." With a wide grin and a slightly darker look over her shoulder he made another flawless exit by stepping into the elevator the exact moment that Sharon chose to look behind her. Expecting Chief Johnson with a list of complaints, she was shocked to see Andy approaching, his hands in his trouser pockets.

"Oh, hi," she said, sounding completely surprised even to her own ears.

"Hey," he replied, his eyes surprisingly warm even if he looked a little awkward. "Um, I was wondering... actually, Provenza was wondering, not me so much- well..." He was fidgeting and she found herself frozen in place, unable to come up with a quip or teasing words or even a knowing smile. Her usual means of conveying sarcasm or superiority left her at the sight of a faint blush creeping up his neck. Suddenly all she wanted to do was close the distance between them, cup his face with her palms and pull him down to kiss her. Instead she said nothing and did nothing, feeling as if it was all she ever did.

"Well, anyway, we're going out for a round of celebratory drinks. The chief's going home so it's only going to be the rest of us, but you're welcome to join us- if you want to, I mean."

She was completely taken aback by the offer and only fleetingly wondered why Provenza, if he had indeed been the driving force behind it, hadn't made it himself. Andy's brow furrowed at her lack of response and he took his hands out of his pockets with a start, raising them as if to fend off an invisible assailant. "Look, if you don't-" He seemed embarrassed, not his usual, charming or aggressive self. It didn't seem as if he was offering her a way out; instead he seemed to be backing off to protect himself, to try and make sure that she didn't think he would mind if she didn't come along. It was the discovery of this weakness in him that convinced to go with him.

"No, I'd love to. Thank you. It is just a little... unexpected." She gave him a small smile, her heart missing a beat when he smiled back, still a little distracted.

"Well, we are like that, aren't we." Their moment was interrupted by Provenza and Sanchez coming out, followed by Gabriel who was on the phone with someone and Tao who was still in the process of shrugging back into his jacket. Flynn announced to the rest of them that she was coming and they just nodded solemnly, but without the usual malice in their looks. She tagged along, her mood lightened by Andy's presence beside her and his small attempts to make conversation on their way to the bar. Once there, she found herself seated between Andy and Sanchez, right across from Provenza who was eying her curiously, she found. He seemed caught between two emotions and she guessed that he wasn't sure whether to hate her in general or to like her a little because of the beanbag gun incident. She was no fool and had noticed how impressed with her everyone had been. There was no way not to, actually. She remembered the look Provenza had given her back in the Murder Room and gave him a small smirk across the table, trying to reestablish that unexpected little moment of comraderie between them. The older lieutenant got up with a start and positioned himself at the head of the table, counting down the drink orders as if to show her how well everyone knew each other. She felt a little dismayed at how obvious he made her position as an outsider until he looked at Andy.

"Cranberry and soda for Andy..."

She turned her head in surprise, her own order forgotten at the discovery that he still seemed to have this particular drink regularly enough to be assumed to be his order by his best friend without having to ask. Their eyes met and she saw a flash of vulnerability in them that surprised her even more than what she'd discovered before.

"What about you, Captain?" Provenza asked, the fact that he was repeating the question obvious from his exasperated tone although Sharon didn't remember hearing anything before.

"White wine," Andy answered for her. "And don't pick the cheapest one."

Sharon smiled, the urge to pull him into her even stronger than before. He seemed to be remembering the very same conversation that she did, that time in her kitchen during their first dinner when she'd told him that for her, cranberry and soda was a mere replacement for the white wine she liked to drink when she was not pregnant. Although times had been rough back then, both emotionally and financially, she suddenly wanted to go back in time, to do it all again. She wanted to yell at her young, idealistic self to tell her that there was no use in trying to keep her family together when Jack was too self-centered and she was in love with someone else.

As per usual, she felt like a spectator to the other's interactions but this time she didn't mind it both because she didn't exactly felt excluded and because she was unable to concentrate on taking part in the conversation with Andy by her side, anyway. She sipped her wine and listened to the other's stories, to what Tao's son was doing, which one of Provenza's ex-wives was making demands again, why Gabriel never had time to go to the gym lately. It was all easy conversation that flowed past her and through her and she felt herself go light-headed with the wine on an empty stomach. Tao was the first to leave, Gabriel quickly following, and she was about to gather the strength to excuse herself and get up from where she was comfortably able to inhale Andy's scent when Provenza made a quick and hurried exit, his phone already pressed to his ear, grumbling at the caller while distractedly waving his goodbyes to them. She didn't want to look up from her glass when sudden silence fell across the table, the others gone, only leaving her and Flynn. His soft voice finally ended the silence that hung between them.

"I have something that is yours."

She looked up, confused, and opened her mouth to ask when he reached into the inner pocket of his jacket and, with a smile, retrieved a bean bag. Despite the tension she was feeling, she let out a throaty laugh, short and abrupt but merry none the less.

"You kept it?" she asked.

"Oh yeah, I did. Wouldn't let a trophy like that go missing," Andy was obviously trying to be his charming self but failing slightly. It wasn't blatantly obvious, but there was a strain in his voice that gave him away.

"You can keep it, you know," she replied. "You don't have to hand it back unless you want me to sign it for you."

Andy grinned, amusement now evident. "As if I needed a reminder where I got it from," he said. "I think that was the single most badass move I've ever seen in my whole career."

She chuckled, a warm feeling spreading through her, and took another sip of wine to hide how pleased she was.

"You're blushing, Sharon," Andy informed her, causing her to let her hair fall in her face. Before either of them knew what he was doing, he had reached out to tuck her hair behind her ear. After she had turned her head with a start, her cheek was now resting inside his palm. Maybe it was the wine talking, but Sharon blurted out the words that had been on her mind for weeks, months even, before she had time to carefully consider whether it was a good idea to be this frank with him.

"I miss you, Andy."

He dropped his hand as if it had been burned, staring at his glass. She noticed that his drink was empty and so was hers.

"We see a lot of each other, don't you think?" he finally mumbled, not quite looking at her. "Look, it's getting late. I should probably go."

Sharon felt heat creep into her cheek and grabbed her bag, slinging it over her shoulder. She buttoned her jacket with one hand while getting up, soon running the other nervously through her hair. It had been wrong to be this straightforward, she conceded, feeling embarrassed and a little empty. Andy walked ahead, a little too fast for her to fully catch up with him and she was sure that it was deliberate. Something seemed to weigh on his shoulders. He was acting like someone who knew he was making a mistake. Suddenly it dawned on her and the shock seemed like something that was about to strangle her.

"Andy!" she called out, causing him to turn around somewhat guiltily. She used it to her advantage and quickly caught up with him, placing her hand on his arm. "Andy, I'm sorry. I should have known. You have a girlfriend, haven't you?"

He stared at her, his mouth slightly open, his eyes large and quizzical.

"Look, I never meant to do this, to intrude on you relationship, I-"

He cut her off unceremoniously. "What makes you think I am in a relationship?" His voice was sharp, the words so hard and unfamiliar in their sound that he might as well have spoken another language. Sharon was taken aback, having been so sure that this was what his distance was all about. She stood there helplessly, palms open and shoulders low. She felt defenseless and, once again, embarrassed, so she decided to just go for it.

"What is it then, Andy? Why-?"

He cut her off again, even more harshly this time, his bearings ruled by a type of anger she didn't recognize, not in him, anyway. It was cold fury, not his usual heated self. He seemed collected, as if the emotion he was about to express wasn't young, not just born by something that upset him but old and ripened and like a thorn in his side that he had learned to ignore.

"You think that this is about me being drawn to you although I am in a relationship with someone else?"

She just shook her head, feeling terribly uncomfortable under his hard gaze. She didn't speak in fear of being cut off again.

"You really don't understand?" His voice sounded strained now. Not as if he was going to raise it in anger, soon, but as if it was going to be ripped apart by the emotion it carried. She was shivering now although her cheeks were hot with shame. The parking lot around them was deserted and dark, providing just enough light to see the pain in his face. She still said nothing, her throat constricted by dread. He took a step away from her when she had expected him to get closer to be all up in her face. He shook his head, his face like stone but his voice full of the emotion he somehow managed to keep out of his eyes.

"I don't want to be your friend again, Sharon. I don't want to be close to you. I can't let it happen again. You're a thing of my past, a thing that almost tore me apart."

Sharon felt a lump in her throat, signaling her that she was about to cry. "I am not a thing," she whispered.

He shook his head slowly. "I wish you were," he said, somewhat defeated. "I only realized how much I love you when you were gone. You tore me apart and I was a wreck for almost two years until Provenza put me back together."

She remained silent, unsure of what to say in order to make it better, or at least not worse. He was not pathetic in his accusations. She could see the raw pain in his eyes and only now she realized how badly she had wounded him. Nothing hurt as much as rejection of a loved one. She of all people should have known. How could she have expected him to just forget about the past and move on when she had never as much as apologized to him? Although her actions had hurt herself just as much, they had to seem selfish to him.

"Jack and I have been separated for almost twenty years now," she finally said quietly. "He is long gone and I-"

Andy shook his head. "You're not divorced, though." He took another step back. "Look, I can't do this. I don't want to do this." He raised his hands as if to fend her off although she wasn't moving a muscle. "Who knows what fault you'll find in our relationship now. There are a million possibilities in your rulebook alone. I can't do it. I'm sorry."

He thought that she'd given him up just like that. Without feeling any pain, without questioning herself. How could she tell him how wrong he was when he kept running away from her?

Only when she heard his car engine start in the distance, she realized that he hadn't used past tense when he said that he loved her.

* * *

_Sharon sat down heavily on the edge of the bathtub, barely able to keep her balance with how narrow it was compared to her large body. She tried to breathe through her nose but it only served to make her feel even more sick while the pain was starting again. She squeezed her eyes shut when it reached its peak, so intense that she clawed her hand around the porcelain, her fingers sliding off the smooth surface. She groaned, pressing her hand against the underside of her swollen belly until it was over. Sharon was shaking when she raised her wrist to look at her watch. Only seven minutes since the last one. She would have to go to the hospital soon. Only that she wouldn't be able to drive herself, it being too dangerous with her frequent contractions. _

_She couldn't leave Tommy on his own either, worried that he would awake in the middle of the night to find both of his parents gone. But Jack hadn't been at the office anymore when she'd called it almost an hour ago to tell him that she was in labor. His whereabouts were anybody's guess and she wanted to slap him for being so careless, her being only two days away from her actual due date. She ran cold water over her wrists to calm herself and then took a deep breath. She would be able to do this on her own, she assured herself. The doctors knew about her condition, they would take the necessary precautions and she would get through this. But doubt was never far away these days. Jack was a loving, but absent father. How would he be able to deal with two kids on his own if something was to happen to her today? She knew that she was beginning to panic, that she had to calm down. Sharon reminded herself that she needed to call Alexa and ask her to come over and watch Tommy, that she needed to do it soon. She knew that she would have to call a cab to get to the hospital, that she had to get her bag from her bedroom. Yet she felt so alone, so in pain, so terribly afraid. _

_Andy. _

_The thought struck her light lightening. She needed Andy. She wanted Andy, more even than she wanted Jack right now. He would calm her down, he would make a terrible joke, he would be there. As much as it hurt to admit it, Jack wasn't even there when he was. Even when he was present physically, his mind was somewhere else and he never caught up on her more subtle emotions. The thought of Andy was what helped her step onto the landing, to gingerly walk down the stairs to her phone. When she had reached the small table in the hallway, another contraction overwhelmed her. It had started to built on her way downstairs but she had been too focused on her destination and on what she was about to do to fully realize it until now. It was worse than the last and caused her to whimper despite her resolve to keep quiet in order not to wake Tommy. In this moment of raw pain, the realization was coming for the first time. She was making a mistake. Drowned out by the adrenaline and later by the happiness and love at the arrival of her child, she would forget about it again, but at that moment it was present and as clear as the agonizing pain she was in. She didn't want to be with Jack and she didn't need to prove anything by staying with Jack. She wanted Andy and Andy was who was good for her. Andy who was trying hard to be a good father despite his own problems. Andy who listened, Andy who really saw her. She had no doubt that Jack loved her, but the only kind of love he was able to give was not the kind she needed. Or anyone needed._

_She took several deep breaths to stay on top of the pain and picked up the receiver. Still knowing Andy's number by heart she dialed the first digits then was interrupted by the sound of the key in the lock. She dropped the phone, shocked by the fact that Jack had been about to walk in on her begging Andy to take her back, not because she was scared that she'd hurt him, but because she knew that it was wrong. Or thought that it was. She had been raised to make the "right" choices, not possibly the easiest or the best ones for herself and she couldn't shake it off. _

_The look in Jack's eyes at the sight of her brought tears to her eyes. It was soft and concerned and she felt guilty for what she had been feeling a moment ago, for what she had been about to do._

_"Oh god, the baby is coming, isn't it?" He was already next to her, running his hand down her back soothingly. "You need to sit down, babe."_

_She wanted to cry, to throw things. She hated herself and she didn't know whether she loved or hated Jack._

_"They're only seven minutes apart," she said and felt him take her hand and squeeze it. _

_"Don't worry. I'll call Alexa," he said, surprising her with the fact that he even remembered her friend's name. "She can be here in a few minutes to watch Tommy. I'll get your bag from upstairs." He lifted her hand to his lips one more time then grabbed the phone and guided her to the living-room and on to the couch where he wrapped his free arm around her and gently pulled her into his side. _

_She felt numb while he was making arrangements, calling Alexa, the hospital and Sharon's mother, all the while stroking her back and occasionally kissing her temple. She closed her eyes, hugging her stomach. In a few short hours she'd be holding their daughter and everything would be okay._

_Only everything wouldn't._

**A/N**: I promise the next chapter will be less angsty. And published sooner. Or so I hope. I have so much to do, it's ridiculous, but I will finish this story. And "The Uninvited" when I am done with this one. I am really sorry for the long wait! I hope you liked it!


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